When We Two Parted
by ecarlateribbon
Summary: July1778 An unconscious Elizabeth wakes in a time of war different from her own, alone and dissoriented she struggles to survive.
1. Everything Happens for a Reason

Disclaimer: I do not own the Patriot nor any of its character including Tavington sadly. The poem below belongs to the poetic brilliance of Lord Byron.

A/N: This is NOT a MS. This is a. . .I wouldn't say time travel fic exactly, I guess it's sort of supernatural/fantasy/spiritual all combined. **PLEASE** do give this a read and at least a chance. I would appreciate any critique, good or bad. A lot has happened in my life since I began writing this in 2004, and I've lost inspiration in writing. But that has been rekindled with love. I'll be updating regularly now, save next April2008 I depart for the Marines. Anyways, I very much hope you enjoy.

Summary: July of 2006-Elizabeth Martin is knocked unconscious one night when she is attacked. July of 1778-She awakes in a time of war different from her own, alone and disoriented she struggles to survive not knowing that she is in the throws of a dream. Once again conscious she struggles to forget the haunting dragoon colonel…

Rating: PG-13 (some language, gruesome violence, reference to rape, and more to come)

**When We Two Parted**

**PROLOGUE**

There is a saying that everything happens for a reason…if this is so, then it can be the only thing keeping me sane. Laying on a stale hospital bed, I find it hard to believe there is any reason at all for what happened to me five days ago. It is impossible to conceive how or even why it happened. For these past days and nights I have been struggling to force these thoughts…these memories from my damned mind. No, I do not speak of the attempted rape on my person nor of the multiple bruises and wounds that cover my broken body. What I speak of is something far more physical………no, not physical. It is something far more emotionally devastating….something that will torture me to insanity. The doctor had told me I was recuperating fine, and that I should be able to leave tomorrow morning at the earliest. This doctor……this medical professional cannot see the incisions deep in my heart and soul that only worsen by the day. He cannot see the pain which is eating my will to live…….no one sees. The doctor, nurses, and even my father all think that I am traumatized by the attack I experienced. They are all blind to what is really troubling me…a dream.

I guess one could say that this was no ordinary dream...if I could even call it a dream. How could I begin to explain this? **I** do not even understand what happened in the time I was knocked unconscious. My father explained to me that I was out for eighteen hours after they had me brought to the hospital…eighteen hours? No, to me it felt more like eighteen months…eighteen months of agonizing loss, war, destruction, and imprisonment. My mind crawled away from the fact that there was **one** crucial man that led me to all those downfalls. . . . . yet in the end saved me from them with his love. This very man continued to haunt me through my dreams and he lurked behind my every thought. He was the one causing this unbearable pain…when I closed my eyes it was his piercing eyes I saw…when someone touched me, it was his scalding touch I felt…when someone spoke it was his ardent voice I heard whispering in my ear beckoning me to him.

I would not linger over this…I couldn't! It was only a dream and nothing more…yes, only a dream. It's this hospital room; I needed to get out of here. Things would improve once I got back home and then I could leave all of this madness behind. I would not be weakened by the sheer memory of a man that did not even exist! This dream would cause me more pain than what was necessary if I did not erase it. . .him from my mind… I was more than willing to forget but, _**damn it**_, I cannot! It scared me to think that I had no control over my own thoughts…too many times have I turned to God for an answer. When the local pastor came he offered benevolent words of peace and solace to ease my troubled mind. I felt the need to ask him, was this all part of God's plan? I had asked him with a tinge of sarcasm and bitterness but still with his sympathetic eyes, he patted my hand and answered kindly.

"We may not know what God's plans are for us…but we do know that he loves us unconditionally and never forsakes us. Elizabeth . . . . We live in an imperfect world of sin and pain, and when we experience something just as you have…we feel the need to question who else but God. You feel hurt right now and probably are even angry at God for letting something like this happen to you. There are many things I could tell you. But I just want you to remember Elizabeth. . . . . _**Everything**_ happens for a reason. Remember that…"

However he had thought I was asking about the attack when I was really wondering about the dream. I was not mad at God. But I did question him. I questioned his existence, his love, his perfection, and his intentions. My faith was quickly fading into the darkness and in its stead I could see the ugly beast of fear emerging from the blackest pit.

I had never been one to fear the unknown nor for myself. My father had always taught me to diligently face my fears and conquer them instead of accepting them. But now, irretrievable fear consumed me like a dangerous fire steadily growing with the fuel of time…and all I wanted to do was run away. I feared for my own sanity and peace of mind. I feared my father's comforting touch. I feared falling asleep. I feared these strange new feelings brewing in me……..and weirdly most of all I feared having lost forever the man in my dream. There was no comfort in the sudden realization that hit me. . . . . . . .

_**I loved him**_.

Quickly and without hesitation I buried that thought deep in the back of my mind to stay so that I could forget just as fast. With closed eyes I turned away from the sunlight's warm happy rays…trembling with the coldness of fear and uncertainty.

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**This is the poem by Lord Byron I'm using as a small base for this story, it'll come more into play the last few chapters of this fanfic. And there are many chapters to come before that: **

_When we two parted  
in silence and tears,  
half broken-hearted  
to sever for years,  
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,  
Colder thy kiss;  
truly that hour foretold  
Sorrow to this._

The dew of the morning  
Sunk chill on my brow--  
It felt like the warning  
of what I feel now.  
Thy vows are all broken,  
and light is thy fame;  
I hear thy name spoken,  
and share in its shame.

They name thee before me,  
A knell to mine ear;  
A shudder comes o'er me--  
Why wert thou so dear?  
They know not I knew thee,  
who knew thee too well:--  
Long, long shall I rue thee,  
too deeply to tell.

In secret we met--  
In silence I grieve  
that thy heart could forget,  
Thy spirit deceive.  
If I should meet thee  
after long years,  
How should I greet thee?--  
With silence and tears.

Lord Byron

XxX


	2. Shady Dreams

**Chapter One**

The light from the rising sun seeped in through the hospital window landing on my bare arms. The warm rays on my cold skin caused me to lift my head wearily from my folded arms. There were dark purple circles beneath my half opened eyes…sleep obviously had not been my friend last night or for that matter the past five nights since had I awaken from unconsciousness. Despite the lack of sleep, I welcomed the new morning with an eagerness to be rid of night's suffocating shadow.

Three hours had been spent twisting and turning beneath the musty sheets while the other two were spent less effectively on ungratifying sleep. When I woke up at five, I decided to get ready to leave the hospital. The fact that I was going home today was really the only thing that motivated me to get out of bed. No more nurses. . . . .no more doctors. . . .no more imprisonment in this dank room. No more for me, thank you very much and I didn't care what the doctors said anymore. . .they could eat their words. I was going home. . .

My dad and the doctor tried to convince me last night about staying a couple more days, but I would hear none of it. The wounds that I sustained from the attack were healing just fine, and I wasn't at all blind to the fact of the medical staff's want to further examine any mental injury. They were concerned saying I had gone through a _very_ traumatic experience and that there were always psychological repercussions. I_**did**_ experience something traumatic, but some people just deal with it better than others do I guess. . . and besides that fact my mind was on other things than the attack. I stood my ground but assured my dad that I would visit the doctor in a week to check my "_progress_".

After the discussion I had tiredly told my father to go home and get some rest. The bags under his eyes appeared worse than mine. He had never really left my side once, forsaking sleep and at times even food. He refused to leave me, but after much pressing he relented and left the hospital at eleven. It was then that I was faced with the challenging task of closing my eyes to fall asleep. The television was my only option other than lying in the dark quiet room….but ever since what had happened I have found silence to be unnervingly painful to bear. I ended up watching cable reruns for four hours and eventually fell asleep whilst watching a John Wayne movie. As soon as I had closed my eyes, I opened them just as quickly. . .

_I awoke to find myself lying on my stomach. . .on something cold, wet, and soft. The thin, flimsy hospital gown, which by now was soaked and transparent, was the only thing I wore. My nostrils filled with the sweet aroma of dew as I lifted my head to take in my surroundings. The air surrounding me was thick and muggy swallowing any solid thing in its path with a heavily dense fog leaving me completely blind. I was lying down which left me a tiny sliver of sight near the ground. From what I could see in front and to the side of me there were no trees, hills, buildings, or persons. . . . nothing but plain fields of grass. Shivers ran up and down my spine as I slowly stood from the dewy earth, the cool air brushed lightly against my glossy skin. The fog thickened taunting my growing agitation with its dark presence._

"_Is anyone there?"_

_I called desperately, sensing I was not alone in this mist. The hairs on my neck stood up at attention……..I was right, there __**was**__ someone else. In the not too far distance, I heard a set of hoof beats lazily approaching. They were faint at first, but with each beat they came nearer…growing louder and louder until it sounded as if they were right in front of me. _

_I held my trembling hand up above my eyes thinking that in some way it would help me to see through the haze. My eyes were useless however, so I tried using my sense of hearing and touch to find the horse__Holding my arms out in front of me, I moved forward a bit to feel my way through to the horse. With no luck, I brought my arms back down to my side and once again tried to see anything. The sound of steady hoof beats surrounded my frame enclosing me in a small circle. Nervously I tried calling out again to the horse. . . to the rider. . . to anyone that could hear me _

"_Please. . .is someone there?" _

_Again no answer came, but the hoof beats suddenly stopped throwing me into the unnerving silence. If there was any time I felt vulnerable, it was now standing blind in the midst of who knows where practically naked, soaked, and numb with the chill. My heart raced as I desperately turned in circles trying to see anything through the smoggy air. Very faintly I heard the grass crunch for a quick second but all was quiet once again. Instead of calling out again, I closed my mouth upon the thought that whatever was out there could possibly be something that wants to harm me. With shallow breaths, I stood completely still hoping that whatever was out there would not be able to hear or see me. _

_Each second that passed, I could only hear the quiet beating of my heart which was quickening and with every small breath I took the sound grew louder. I brought up my hands hastily to fold over my chest, trying to quell my maddening heart. _

_A very warm breeze swept past me nearly blowing the flimsy gown off my already trembling body. All went deathly still and quiet, and my heart's violent beating had slowed suddenly. I still kept my hands over my heart feeling the need to protect the one most vital organ from any pain and destruction that could threaten it. _

"_Elizabethhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…"_

_From the shrouding darkness, a deep velvety voice spoke to me whispering my name as if it were a sacred prayer. I found myself unable to move, but still my eyes searched wildly around. With a wavering voice I weakly demanded the person to show his face. _

"_St----Stop hiding! Come out------- and------and show yourself------------------"_

_Few seconds passed before he spoke again with more clarity and volume… his voice sparked a familiarity in me, I've heard it before. . . _

"_Oh Elizabeth……….." _

_It came to me as a desperate moan unnerving me even more at the thought this person could probably see me when I could not.__** 'this is only a dream Liz, just a dream. Nothing can harm you' **__ A new boldness rushed through my veins making me speak demandingly and with more of a backbone. _

"_Who are you and what do you __**want**__?!" _

_All of a sudden hot muggy breath blew on the rim of my ear sending every hair on my body to stand at rigid attention. _

"_You Elizabeth……………." _

_I quickly turned my head to where I thought the man would be but was met with nothing but thick air. I whispered once again but it was more addressed to myself than anyone._

"_Who are you?" _

_There was a slight audible sigh before being followed by the mysterious voice. _

"_have you forgotten……………can you not remember our love?" _

_I merely stood there in a stupor with my jaw fallen open and my eyes glazed over with a shocked expression. __**'our love?!'**__ What the hell was going on here….wake up Liz…wake up! This was only a dream…just a dream. _

_Frightened out of my wits end, I willed myself to move my legs and started running. I had no clue where I was going, but I didn't care just as long as it was away from this man…. whoever he was. The dark mist enveloped me wherever I ran making me feel like I was running in circles and the field appeared to be never ending. It seemed as if I was getting no where, and with all hope of waking up gone I collapsed on my knees. The wet grass cushioned my fall, but it did nothing to help the fall of my spirit. Taking small deep breaths I tried to calm myself. Please wake up Liz…_

"_There is no way to escape me….I am bound to you as you are bound to me" _

_With silent frustrated tears erupting from eyes, I looked down to the ground knowing that I wouldn't be able to see anything if I were to look around. It did not take long for me to feel that hot moist breath on my sweaty neck and ear once more. _

"_Long years have I spent grieving in silence, waiting for your return. Waiting for the day we would be united. And now to find that you have lost all memory of me, that your heart and spirit have been deceived to lies. . .it pains me severely" _

_I brought up dirty hands to cradle my face, crying gently into them. . .silently wishing all of this away. He continued to speak despite my broken appearance. . ._

"_When we two parted on this field, I became a broken resemblance of a man with only your silence and tears left as a remembrance. And now after much time has passed. . . I have finally found you only to have you greet me with silence and tears"_

_At hearing this, I looked up with a tear stricken face asking for the fourth time with a crushed voice. _

"_Who. . . are you?" _

_It was barely a whisper as I was trying to swallow back any other tears that threatened to escape. Still he heard my silent request and answered with a faint sultry whisper in my ear. _

"_I am in you Elizabeth...I am your soul, I am your body, I am there in your mind, and I will forever be etched into your heart…I __**wait**__ for you" _

And that was the end of the dream, the most weird I've had in the past five days. All of my recent dreams had been blurry past memories I don't even recall having in my life. But this one….it was different in every way but one, that voice. It was his voice, the man…..who I only remembered very faintly from that _**one**_ dream. His voice secretly made my spirit soar but also set fear and uncertainty in my heart and mind. It was a battle between reality and imagination. . .dreams and life. If I accepted what this man said…then I will have abandoned all sense of what was certain around me and will have received what can never be true.

That was all I'd been thinking about since I woke up this morning. . . and so I've been here sitting on the bed since five-forty waiting for my father to come pick me up. The sun was already halfway up in the sky telling me it was about seven-thirty. I stood up from the bed and walked over to the window staring at the orange red hue of the rising sun. As I stood there entranced by the beauty of perfection, I could not help but think back of his last words to me.

"_I __**wait**__ for you" _

What did he mean by that? Does he wait for me only when I sleep? Even if I wanted to find him, there was no way I could possibly do it. He didn't exist. . .he couldn't exist but in my mind. What had he meant when he said when we two parted? I knew where I had met him, but I **DID NOT **have any desire to think back on those things. . .when I was trying so terribly hard to rid myself of them. Remember Liz. . .it was only a dream. How many times do I need to repeat that? It means nothing to me. . .nothing. . .he means **nothing** to me!

A gentle hand rested on my shoulder making me jump a bit back from the window. Turning my head, I was met with two familiar brown eyes…an old family friend that was a nurse here in the county hospital. She stood behind me, her face creased with concern.

"Oh, I'm so sorry dear, didn't mean to frighten you. Only came by to check on you and see if you needed anything"

I turned around fully allowing her to take a good look at me which I noticed right away when her eyes swept over my entire form before once again settling on my own eyes.

"Thanks Ruth, but uh…the only thing I want right now is to go home"

"So, you are leaving today then? **I** thought the doctor would…"

Placing a hand on her arm, I interrupted her as politely as I could.

"Yes, well not to say he didn't try convincing me to stay a few more days…because he did try. But I know I cannot stand one more day locked up here"

She placed a hand on mine whilst looking at me with her glazed benevolent eyes.

"Oh sweetie, he only has concerns for you after……………well------after"

She quickly broke contact with my eyes looking instead to the window. Why are people so hesitant speaking about the attempted rape and such? It's not like I've refused to speak about it in the past five days or something…if I had, well then sure I understand people would be uncomfortable speaking about the matter. I knew she was in a bit of an awkward moment so I finished her sentence.

"After the attack you mean"

Just as quickly she looked back to me with sympathetic eyes which made me cringe inwardly.

"Yes, you know if you need someone to talk to…I'm just a call away"

"Well, thank you Ruth but I think I've grown tired of talking about it to the doctors and every police officer that has walked in here which includes my dad"

A smile lightened the small wrinkles on her face as she walked away to pick up my dinner tray from last night.

"Yes, that's true honey. Your father sure does……"

She stopped mid sentence when she pulled the lid off the plate to find all the food untouched. Quickly she replaced the lid before turning to throw me a disapproving glare. With the tray of food in her hands she walked back to my side saying,

"Elizabeth Martin, you didn't eat anything of your meal last night. In the condition you are, you need all the nutrients you can get to rejuvenate yourself back to health. Now I don't know what your eating habits are at home, and I don't care. . .you're here under my care now and I'm going to bring you some breakfast. You don't leave this hospital until you eat at least half of it"

"Really Ruth, that's not necessary. I just haven't been very hungry lately"

She turned away ignoring my last comment and walked towards the door with an attitude that the issue was closed. Turning around once more to look at me she said determinedly,

"Nonsense young lady, you are going to eat and that's final"

The door closed without another word making me release a pent up frustrated sigh. My word, I'm twenty two years old not a child… Ruth would never stop treating me like one though. She had insisted on doing it since the day we met. When my family moved here, I guess she took pity on my brother and I who were motherless. She treated us as her own grandchildren, spoiling yet disciplining us whenever she saw us, which was not often.

My heartstrings pulled at the mere thought of the mother I barely had known and now only remember so little. A mother I had only until I was six and then she died leaving me and my twin brother alone with our father. I **did** have fond, small memories of my mother though; she was a beautiful compassionate woman with angelic blond hair and calm blue eyes. I was quite the opposite with my dark brown hair and stormy hazel eyes, but my twin brother Patrick was born with her exact heavenly looks. She was a kind, giving woman. . .a pillar and stronghold of the family and when she died of cancer in 1990, she took everything with her leaving my family a shattered, broken one.

He. . .my father, never really babied us and much was always expected as children and adolescents. With my mother gone, he didn't have time to treat us like the young children we were. He took us from the city life of Charleston back to the Martin farm not too far away, just off of the Santee River. Once we settled in, Patrick and I helped father remodel part of the unkempt 18th century home and the rundown barn. We did our chores in helping manage the farm to make some money but I think it mostly was just so my father could keep us busy all the time.

As we grew older and with the added weight of school activities, Patrick and I learned quickly how to get by on our own. My father drowned his sorrow and grief in his work on the farm and it didn't take long for him to become sheriff in the nearby town of Santee. He never gave us much attention though he did give time to disciplining us with a firm hand. Despite all of this, I could never hate my father for the bitter man he had become. When my mother died, I was too young to really understand my father's pain but with maturity I saw his open wounds with comprehension. He was a cold and distant man for the majority of my upbringing.

My father was all too late in realizing his mistake, and by that time Patrick and I were graduating from high school. I still don't know what made him change, it was weird to say the least to have the old memory of my father back. I could still remember that day as if it were yesterday. . . coming home from school and seeing the disheveled form of my father sitting on the living room floor. It was an unfamiliar sight to say the least, his head hung low in his cradled hands. I'll never forget the tear stricken face I saw when he lifted up his head to look at me. So many tears were exchanged between the both of us that afternoon as he held me in his arms for the first time since my mother had died. . .he was different. . .he was the father I thought had died.

After that day he attached himself to us. . .did everything but beg us to stay home after graduation. We did the opposite though and ran away from home to my father's great disappointment. Patrick received a football scholarship to attend The Citadel in Charleston and I. . . . . well, I too turned to the military. I felt bad leaving him alone after he had just opened himself to us, but I couldn't as well drop my goals and aspirations.

I left for boot camp two weeks after graduation and ever since my father has clung to me refusing to let go. While I served my four years in the Marines, he called me numeroud times a week! If I didn't go see him for a holiday, he would take a plane to wherever I was stationed to spend it with me, even if it was overseas. Now that I've finished my four year tour, he's insisted on I staying at the farm to help him take care of it. I knew he only wanted to make up for the lost time all those years, but he needed to realize I was an adult now with career goals and not a little girl. He had grown so clingy, and with the recent attack I knew he would only get worse. . .

I leaned my cool forehead against the warm window and sighed exhaustingly just thinking about what was ahead of me…and to think the day was _**only**_ beginning.


	3. Tide of Darkness

First, **many** thanks to all you who are giving time out of their day to read this story as it means much to me. Reviews really don't matter to me anymore, but I still greatly appreciate **any** given criticism/review.

**XxX**

**Chapter Two**

"Are you ready to leave honey?"

I looked up from the unappetizing plate of cafeteria food to see my father leaning against the open room door with my bag in his hand. Taking a quick glance back down at the burnt toast and runny eggs, I immediately push the breakfast cart away not even wanting to stomach the idea of eating it. People would think that being in the military would harden your stomach against all kinds of food. While that was right, there was one important fact…I was **NOT** in the military anymore. Without hesitation I answered quickly.

"Yea dad"

Before I could even move off of the bed, I noticed Ruth appear in the doorway next to my unaware father. She said a quick hello to him making him jump off from leaning on the door. Ruth has a way of surprising people with her short stature and untimely appearances. Keeping her eyes on me the entire time, she entered the room going straight to the food tray. An audible sigh escaped my lips before I could stop it as I prepared myself to receive a verbal reprimanding. And just by the puckered look on her face I could tell I was in for one. She lifted up the lid off of the breakfast to find nothing had been touched save for the muffin which I wasn't afraid to take a bite of, considering it probably wasn't made in the hospital cafeteria. Quickly scanning the contents, she looked up to me with admonishing eyes.

"Elizabeth Katie Martin, I will stand guard at that door until you eat some of this food"

My father walked over to us with a puzzled expression. . . I looked up to him pleading with my eyes for him to help me. Setting my bag on the bed, he took a good look at the hospital food before addressing Ruth.

"You call that food…hmm Ruth?"

He tried to pick up some of the eggs with the fork, but they only seemed to run through the cracks like liquid. Dropping the fork, he looked back up to Ruth expecting an answer. Her face blushed brightly with either embarrassment or anger I'm not sure, but I couldn't help but laugh. Upon hearing me, my father and Ruth both looked at me with a shocked expression that quickly turned into surprised joy. Their smiles made me feel awkward and silent with their unwanted stares.

"That's the first I've heard you laugh in five days sweetie"

With a stoic face I looked down to my lap when Ruth placed a hesitant hand on my shoulder. _Why, oh why did she have to bring it up?_ Thankfully my father, coughed as a hint to Ruth of my discomfort which she noticed then and changed the subject.

"Um---------here Elizabeth, just eat a bit…that's all"

She pushed the cart to stand before me, once again sending an unpleasant aroma into my nostrils. I closed my eyes to keep from looking once more at the ill prepared breakfast.

"Oh come on Ruth, she's leaving the hospital…we don't want to have to send her here again because of that stuff"

Looking up from my lap, I caught her challenging my father with a glare which brought a small smile to my lips. Ruth was a considerably smaller woman than my father, not only in stature but in size also. She stood at about 4'11 while my father………well, he towered over her at 6'4. Not to mention my dad wore his uniform right now with all the dangerous police toys hanging off his belt and Ruth. . .well, she wore the pink floral nursing scrubs.

"Benjamin Martin, you know better! Sheriff or no sheriff, she hasn't eaten very well these past five days and I specifically told her this morning she wasn't to leave without having a bite to eat."

Quickly looking down at the tray, I searched for anything that I could possibly eat to make her satisfied yet not make me sick at the same time. The blueberry muffin stood as my only salvation so I picked it up to show to her.

"I'll take this on the go…"

I stood up from the bed, folding the muffin in a small napkin for Ruth to see. She stared at me before releasing a defeated sigh and looking back to my father.

"Very well, I suppose I can let you go Elizabeth…………if I had any idea they were putting a new cook in the kitchen today. . . well, someone's going to have to have a talk with the young man"

My face lit up with a smile as I gave her an ever so brief hug.

"Thanks Ruth…"

In response, she laid a hand on my cheek before addressing me once more seriously.

"Now Elizabeth, promise me you'll stay in touch young lady. Don't be a stranger, and anytime…anytime you need something you know my number and where I live"

"I'll remember that Ruth…"

I said with a hint of hidden sarcasm, but Ruth didn't notice. . .her mind was already on other things. What an odd southern woman! She let out a quick grunt of approval before grabbing the tray of food to take out. Passing my father, she just barely acknowledged him with a nod.

I think in a way she was still kind of bitter about the way my father raised both my brother and I. She was the one single woman in the county that didn't chase after my widowed father and she was also the only one that still held animosity towards him. I guess she'll never understand the great amount of pain my father experienced after losing my mother Katherine. . .no one will understand.

I turn to see my father standing in front of the bed; his mischievous eyes were bright and welcoming. He was a changed man altogether from the defeated man of not so long ago. Shaking those thoughts from my head, I picked up my bag and gave him a quick smile.

"Well dad…is everything taken care of with the doctor?"

"Yes, he said you're good to leave, saw nothing out of the ordinary this morning when he checked you…..but I should tell you Liz that we both still think that…"

He laid a hand on my arm which I quickly removed when I walked around him to head for the open door.

"I know what you both think dad, and I know you're only worried about me. But trust me when I say this is for the better that I go home now. It's only hurting me to stay cooped up in this depressing room"

Turning to face him, I saw a solemn look in his turquoise eyes…that same look of regret and helplessness which always dampened my spirit. I walked over to him and placed a hand on his arm with a downcast smile.

"Dad…don't worry, everything's going to be okay. What I need and want now more than anything is to forget what happened that's all…I want to move on with my life. I'm fine…really"

_Shame on you Elizabeth. Liar. Liar. Liar. _

He laid his hand over mine, before addressing me in a lighter yet unconfident tone.

"I believe you honey. It's just…I'm afraid to lose you again"

"You've never lost me dad, I've always been there by your side…."

On a brighter note I added with a large grin.

"Sorry pops, but I'm not going anywhere. . .you're stuck with me"

That seemed to cast the dreary mood aside as a hearty laugh erupted from his lips. He straightened up with that keen look in his eyes once again.

"Well God help me. Liz, I don't know what I'm going to do with you…"

"For starters, you could take me home"

With a sigh he placed an arm around my shoulders pulling me into a hug.

"Right, let's go get your papers signed to get you out of here"

We walked over to the main desk where we were greeted by a young male nurse, who looked to be not that much older than myself. His long brown hair was tied back at his neck, and his soft green eyes were cheery and warm. He looked at my father with wide eyes at first because of the sheriff's uniform, but then his eyes solely set on me giving me his full attention.

"Hello miss, how are you this morning?"

My father leaned down on the counter with his elbow giving a square look to the ignorant young man. To be polite, I gave him a quaint smile before answering with practiced patience.

"I'm good…..just here to sign the papers for my release"

He nodded as if knowing I was going to say those exact words and looked to my father again quickly. His back straightened with a short cough, seeing that I was really in no mood to chit chat and neither was my father.

"Right and your name miss?"

"Elizabeth…Elizabeth Martin"

The nurse looked down to the old computer whilst setting his long fingers on the stained keyboard.

"Okay…one second Miss Martin"

I heard a thumping noise, and turned my head to see my father drumming his fingers on the off white colored countertop playfully. With a look of disapproval I mouthed the words "Don't". In response, he shrugged his shoulders innocently as if saying "what am I doing". I was not born a fool, and only the blind would be fooled by his innocent look. It was his eyes…those eyes had always given away his thoughts, and ever since I was smart enough I knew how to use that to my advantage. And right now, there was no doubt of the mischievous glimmer in those bright blues. I gave him one more warning look before turning to the nurse.

"Here we go miss…Elizabeth Katie Martin?"

"That's me"

"It's going to take a couple of minutes for the things to print. I'll be right back"

As I watched him walk away, I felt a pair of eyes on me. Knowing all too well who it was I turned yet again to see my father doing what else than staring at me intently. With raised eyebrows I asked,

"Yes?"

"Liz, I've been thinking about something that happened the other night while you were asleep"

"No wait…let's see, did you have another revelation about life?" I asked jokingly before he continued talking.

"I'm trying to be serious Liz, you were talking in your sleep…………..in fact you even called for someone"

Laughing nonchalantly I took it as a joke, but inwardly I was teeming with curiosity. He ignored my laugh, seeing straight through my false front which made me stop laughing.

"Oh come on dad, be serious. . . do you think I care?"

"Well, _**don't you**_ want to know whose name it was you called?"

With the smile quickly fading, I asked him more seriously.

"Why are you telling me this now…in the hospital hallway?"

"Because I saw the young man's name tag and it reminded me of that night…"

My arms folded across my chest as I raised my eyebrow again waiting for him to tell me.

"Well dad…"

I held my breath eagerly waiting to hear the name come off my father's lips but it never did.

"Here we are Miss Martin, you just need to sign a couple of these here pages and you'll be home free"

The nurse set three papers before me, pointing to the lines where I was to sign. He held out the pen to me waiting for me to take it. Releasing the constricted air in my lungs, I reached for the pen with a wavering hand. An uneasy feeling came over me as I began signing the pages._Just look at his nametag for goodness sake Liz…it's only a name. _

Finish signing the last page, I slid over the pen and papers back to him with my eyes still faced downward. Slowly yet surely I allowed my eyes to lift up and look at his nametag. I read it letter for letter. . . left to right. . . . slowly soaking it in…………….

W----------I--------------L----------------L-------------------I----------------A-----------------M

It took me awhile to even register the name as I just continued repeating the letters in my head to put together. Putting the simple pieces together, I whispered the name softly and lingered over the taste of it upon my lips.

"William"

My heart fluttered at the sound of his name, and my soul beckoned me to speak his name once more. My mind was no longer working effectively, and all the senses not connected to my heart and soul fell away. Feeling light headed I whispered his name once more. . .

"William"

A low rich voice reached the inner strings of my heart and began pulling mercilessly…whispering into its inner depths with an ardent ferocity.

"_**Elizabeth…"**_

Within the confines of my chest, my heart beat wildly making me take short uneven breaths. I lifted up my hand to lay over my heart before looking up with blurred vision to see nothing but dim silhouettes. Far away I felt a hand grab my arm trying to shake me from this growing stupor. My heart and soul's call was stronger than that of my weak mind and I could do nothing but lose control.

With a raging desperation, his fervent voice once more reached the inner depths of my heart, invading every hidden crevice and knocking over every security.

"_**Come to me…"**_

With all sense gone, I abandoned myself slowly to the comforting darkness that surrounded me. Closing my heavy eyes, I felt my weightless body spiral down into the oblivion of obscurity with his fading words holding me.


	4. Home Sweet Home

**(language in this chapter)**

**Chapter Three**

_**Six days before/ A South Carolina highway (2 hours outside of Santee) **_

"_**Oro supplex et acclinis,  
Cor contritum quasi cinis,  
Gere curam mei finis" **_

The Requiem Mass played loudly over the jeep's speakers, surrounding me with its timeless music. At that moment I would have loved nothing more than to close my eyes in pure ecstasy, but the fact that I was driving made that a bad idea. Mozart always did that to me, even if I was listening to the same concerto for the thousandth time. It lifted my soul to the heavens, and carried me through the white clouds of relaxation. . . . . .even if **I was** riding with the most annoying passenger in history.

"Tell me again Lizzy, why are we listening to this crap"

Inwardly I cringed at the way he carelessly labeled the brilliant composition.

_James Wilkins. _Why, oh **WHY** did I offer him a ride home?! I turned my head to see his hand reaching for the stereo, his eyes were squinted in concentration.

"Don't touch that radio Jim, or I swear I will give you that bloody nose I've been wanting to since the day we met"

Before turning my eyes back to the road, I noticed with humor that he had quickly set his hand on the center consol. Yes, James Wilkins was the most patient trying man I had ever had the displeasure of meeting…okay, maybe it wasn't entirely unpleasurable. We met quite some time ago when we were just children . . .I was six and he was nine, but even then he was still a bit irritating. He was what you called a rich spoiled country boy with his fine mansion, perfect English parents, and the grandest horse stables in all of South Carolina. I didn't despise him though because of his wealth or even for the fact that he acted like a superficial jerk sometimes. It was because of his naivety and the way he perceived the world like it was some game to be played. Not to mention we dated for a year in high school when I was a freshman, he dumped me a month before prom because I didn't have money to go and my dad wouldn't let me attend. . .I guess that's my fault for even dating him in the first place.

I looked over again to see him staring out the window with those beautiful emerald eyes that long ago had mesmerized me with his slightest glance. He wasn't bad looking, just a bit too boyishly cute for my own tastes now. Well, then again that was before he had joined the Marines. . .everything was different about him. He had curly brown hair which was now pretty much all shaved off because of the high and tight Marines must maintain. His most famous facial characteristic was the Cheshire cat smile that could brighten up even the dimmest of rooms. That smile still existed, but it wasn't the same confident, arrogant toothy grin I had grown to hate yet admire. He definitely had a strong sense of military bearing now, but to me he still somehow seemed like the freckled little boy that chased me around after school.

He had been transferred to the same base where I was stationed, Camp Lejeune. . .just two years ago. To say I was surprised would be an understatement, I was blown away with shock, I had barely even noticed him and if it hadn't been for his unusual tall stature, I wouldn't have. It wasn't only his looks that had changed, most of his naivety had disappeared and it's what I would expect after he had served two rough years in the Middle East. The war had changed him, whether it be into a better man. . .I don't know. The past two years I tried keeping my distance away from him, but in the end I couldn't . . . no matter how he had acted in the past, I couldn't deny him a small friendship. After all, I've known him sixteen years and there was no other female out there that knew him better. . .well, save for his mom.

"So Lizzy, what are your plans now?"

I had been so deep in thought that I hadn't noticed he had turned down the volume almost completely. Before answering, I gave him a cool glare making known my rising aggravation which he took in immediately.

"Jim, how many times do I have to tell you not to call me Lizzy anymore?"

His look immediately turned defensive as he rebounded off my attack.

"How many times do **I** need to tell you not to call me Jim?"

With a smart smile, I turned back to the road and kept my attention there not letting him see the obvious thoughts racing in my head through my hazel eyes.

"Touché James, touché. Why did you turn down my music?"

"I want to talk. . ."

"We have nothing to talk about, and besides I've enjoyed this silent car ride so far. Don't ruin it like you always. . ."

All of a sudden he placed a tight hand on my arm crushing it in his grip……making me nearly jump off the car seat when he shouted.

"What the hell is wrong with you Elizabeth?!"

In erupted rage and unsuppressed anger, I jerked the jeep to the side of the highway before turning to him with an equally dour black expression.

" Me?! What the fuck do you think you're doing James?'

His eyes were aflame with so many different emotions, I couldn't tell which one was influencing his actions and words. I felt a slight pain in my arm where he held it. . .no doubt there would be a slight bruise in a matter of time.

"I'm tired of this. . .of you treating me like a piece of. . .like I'm nothing"

I winced slightly at his tightening grasp, before gaining control of the growing hostile situation. My voice trembled with unnatural calmness and animosity as I threatened him none too lightly.

"Get your hand off me. . ."

As if burned, he quickly flinched away from me turning his body away towards the window. His head hung low, and I weirdly felt a twinge of pain course through my veins. I looked down to my arm and saw a pale imprint of his fingers upon my tan skin. . .but that's not the pain I felt.

We said nothing more to each other the rest of the way home, an awkward silence filled the car like an unwanted pestilence. There was no way I could listen to any more Mozart, not when I was in such a foul mood and I knew deep inside it wasn't James' fault. . . .it was mine.

The day had started out quite horribly, I was leaving my home of three years to go back to the home I had so eagerly left four years ago. My four year contract with the Marine Corps was done, and I would have reenlisted had it not been for my father. He wanted me to go home and help him take care of the farm. . .and then probably marry a local boy, and then what else comes next but having a bunch of kids and growing fat. No, he would never force that life upon me but I knew that's what he wanted out of his only daughter. Well, I had some news for him. . .I wouldn't settle, I just wouldn't. . .not now, not ever. Yes, my father was a changed man. . .he was more open, kind, caring, and all those other things that fathers should be. But that didn't change my aspirations and determined spirit for a prosperous exciting life. Earlier that year I had been accepted to the College of Charleston, and I was to enter this Fall. I was going back home to break the news to my unsuspecting father.

The day had only gotten worse when I had remembered that I offered James a ride home since he lives but ten minutes from me. When we began the drive he had been in a cheery mood, but I had quickly dampened his spirits with my subtle broodiness. My sour emotions had been veiled by the apparent contentment I felt with the classical music. But now my bitterness was revealed for all of South Carolina to see and it was not pretty.

It was already seven when I pulled into the paved road leading up to his parent's elegant mansion. Even though he stayed quiet, I couldn't help but notice him straighten up in his seat with his eyes once again focused on the front instead of the passenger window. Out of my peripheral vision, I could see his eyes brighten with. . . are those _**tears**_??? It hit me. . .he hasn't been home in nearly six years. I remembered how his parents had nearly disowned him when he had announced he was enlisting in the Marine Corps after high school. They had refused to speak to him up until two years ago when they received word of his war injury. And now, he was coming home. . . . .home. I lingered over the sweet feeling settling in my stomach at the thought of my father waiting eagerly for me at home. . .I couldn't deny the fact that I had truly missed all of this.

Before long, we were greeted with the full front view of a gorgeous whitewashed eighteenth century home. Two tall pillars stood guard to both sides of the entryway making the grand home seem a bit intimidating to a first comer who's seeing it for the first time. I pulled into the driveway, circling around a fountain, before I stopped the jeep in front of two large hand sculpted doors.

Despite me having turned off the car, James still kept his eyes focused on the windshield, not even blinking once. I slid my hands down to fold in my lap, before timidly looking over to his impassive face. A wet long trail ran down the length of his left cheek alerting me to the fact of his hidden pain. With an unaccustomed wave of compassion washing over me, I laid my hand lightly on his stiff arm. . .only to have him flinch away from me.

I quickly looked down placing my hand back in the safety of my lap. All bitterness and darkness had seemed to die away in the past short minutes, and all that was left in its place was torturing regret.

"I'm sorry James"

It came out barely as a whisper, but I knew he had heard every word. If he acknowledged them. . .I had no clue because before I could even say anything else he was out of the car with his bag in his hand. With the slam of the door came the painful answer to my apology.

Without further thought, I started up the engine and rode away before his parents could have a chance to ask me in for tea or worse. . .dinner. No doubt dad would have had prepared some dinner for us to share together tonight. He would expect me to tell him countless stories of my time away from home. . .no matter how many times he'd heard them before.

On the way back home, my mind flooded with so many different thoughts of the past, present, and future that it was hard to separate one from the other. With a sigh I pulled the window down suddenly finding the enclosed car space to be suffocating. My nostrils were met with the sweet smell of wet grass and that distinguished country aroma. . .or what city people would call an awful stench. To me, it was home.

It didn't take long for me to pull into the familiar dirt pathway leading to the colonial style farm. When I caught sight of the house, my heart nearly dropped at what I saw. . .the whitewash on the house was chipping off and fading in other parts and most of the black shutters on the windows had been destroyed or were hanging by the mere hinges. I stopped the car to the side of the house underneath the shade of a tree and turned it off. Getting out of the car with my bag, I prepared myself to see the full damage of the house up close. I hadn't even made it to the porch when I noticed all the flowers and plants in my small garden dead. The wood railing on the steps leading up to the porch was broken and laid on the ground next to the stairs. Walking up to the porch, I winced at the sound of the old creaky floorboards beneath my light feet. Everything needed tending to. . .the paint, the woodwork, the plants, and I had a feeling that the inside would be the same.

"Dad's been neglecting the house again"

I whispered the obvious under my breath to no one in particular. Stepping up to the door, I pulled back the screen and knocked on the old worn wood. There was no response, so I knocked again before calling out.

"Dad? Come on, open up Dad"

Nothing but silence answered me making me knock once more before giving up. He knew I was coming home, didn't he? Of course he did, he was the one that said he'd be making dinner tonight. Where in the world could he be? I don't think he'd be called on duty tonight, after all it was a Sunday night.

With a groan I walked off the porch to the other side of the house where he usually parks his duty car. . . .nothing. Great, just great! Now, how am I going to get inside with no house keys. Well, I could always kick the door down since it was so old and fragile. . .but then who knows how long it'd take my dad to replace the door since he preferred to build his own woodworks. . . and not too successfully at that.

A thought entered my mind. . .what about my bedroom window? I used to always leave it unlocked in high school for when I'd sneak out and come back home late. My room was right above the roof that covered the front porch making it easy for me to come in and out of the window. Without further thought, I left my bags and went to get the tall ladder from the back shed. I wasn't just going to wait for him to show up. . .it had been a long five hour drive from Camp Lejeune and I wanted nothing more than to just curl up in bed and reacquaint myself with my old room.

Carefully I set the old ladder against the porch's roof before placing my bags over my shoulder. As I cautiously climbed the ladder the wooden steps groaned against the sudden heavy weight. This thing hadn't been used in more than four years, and my skinny frame had weighed less back when. As soon as I reached the top of the roof, I quickly got off the ladder before kicking it to the ground where it splintered in half. Breathing a sigh of relief, I walked carefully over to the second window on the right being sure not to step on any loose roof panels.

It opened with ease thankfully, and I slipped inside before closing the window. I was greeted with the most welcome site, none of my stuff had been moved since two years ago when I had visited. The same navy blue comforter lay on top of my bed with the mismatching rainbow pillows. My sports' trophies still stood glimmering with the sunlight on top of my armoire with the occasional uniform photograph in between. Various old and new military recruiting posters were tacked to three walls and on the wall behind my bed still hung the flag of the Marine Corps.

"Home, sweet home"

Setting my bag aside on the floor, I walked over to my armoire and pulled out some boxers and a tank top. Even though it was only seven thirty and the sun had yet to set, I found it too hard to suppress the urge to curl up in bed with the familiar scent of my past lulling me to sleep.

Lying in the small yet comfortable bed, I reached over and turned on the fan right next to my face. The South Carolina heat could be unrelenting especially during the beginning month of Summer. . .June. Many thoughts flooded my mind once again now that I was laying still on my back. . .thoughts of the Marine Corps, of my father and his whereabouts, of college, of my uncertain future. . .but most of all of James and the words he had said.

"_What the hell is wrong with you Elizabeth" _

I've asked myself that question too many times before. . .what **WAS** wrong with me? For the past year, I like everyone else couldn't help but notice how my usual upbeat outgoing personality had turned darker. . .many days I felt sad and I didn't even know why. And with everything happening lately, the tension had built up and I blew. . . hurting the one man who cared for me most. . .James. I was not blind to the fact he loved me, but I chose to act blind for his and my own good. No relationship is a good one. . .

Pushing all those thoughts deep down in my mind, I concentrated on some much needed rest. With a sigh, I turned over on my stomach and easily fell asleep whilst listening to the gentle whirring of the fan's blades.

XxX

_**Three hours later**_

A police car drove up the dirt road to the house, parking it in the usual spot. A tall toned man slowly got out of the car as if his muscles were stiff to the bone. Shutting and locking the door, he lifted his arms above his head for a quick much needed stretch. His short brown hair glowed in the pale moonlight whilst his turquoise eyes sparkled with an untold emotion. One could also easily see the sheriff's badge shimmering brightly on his pushed out chest. Stretching his tight back, he let out a small deep groan when a bone popped. He brought his arms back down and straightened up before turning up his face to look at the ethereal full moon. A smile brightened his handsome features as he soaked in the glorious beauty.

"Katherine. . ."

He whispered his dead wife's name as a sweet prayer whilst keeping his eyes focused on the bright star. His smile faded as the small wrinkles around his nose, eyes, and on his forehead creased slightly in thought as he began the usual prayer to her.

"Katherine, our Elizabeth has finally come back home. . . . . . . ."

He stopped speaking for a moment, getting caught up in the moment of what he was about to say. Tears glimmered in his eyes before they slowly erupted and cascaded down his freshly shaven face. He spoke up again with a trembling voice of uncertainty.

". . . . . . Not for long though. I can't be selfish and keep her young wild spirit on this old farm. She deserves a better. . .fuller life. Katherine, it's time for your family to meet her. I'm going to send her to England to live with your parents, she's going to study at the same university you did. They've agreed to welcome her into their home with open arms. . . . . . . . . .you know they will love her as we do"

For the first time he lowered his head down as if in defeat and muttered with a broken voice.

". . . . I will miss her"

He stood still for a minute, not speaking, not moving. . . save for his heaving shoulders and short gasps for air. The moon's eerie light seemed to glow on nothing but the solo form of the sobbing man. . .darkness dared not approach him. With a deep breath, he regained his composition, and straightened up before saying his final words.

" I have made many mistakes since you've gone. . .but no more. It's time to let go Katherine. . ."

Looking up once more to the bright star in the sky, he closed the lovers' prayer with a permanent farewell. His voice held nothing of remorse or regret, but it was strongly full of hope and a cheerful optimism.

"Until we meet again Katie. . ."

Without further hesitation, he turned with a lighter foot and walked up to the porch taking out the house key. He pulled back the squeaky screen door and unlocked the door whilst entertaining thoughts of Liz's whereabouts. He had seen Liz's car when pulling in, could she already be inside? An idea entered his mind making him walk away from the door to the right side railing of the porch. There on the ground barely visible in the moonlight lay his old ladder broken in half. A toothy grin made his wrinkles prominent once more at the familiar sight of that ladder at the same spot. . .after four years. Of course he had known about Liz's secret excursions at night, he wasn't sheriff for nothing. But he had also known that she was determined and stubborn, bound to do whatever she wanted no matter if he had had her door and window barred.

He entered the dark house, closing and bolting the door behind him. There were no lights turned on. . .no electronics. . .nothing to prove Liz was here. . .but he knew she was here, a father's intuitive one could say. He decided to go up to her room and check up on her to make sure she was okay. Upon making his way up the stairs, he stopped at the top to wait and listen for any noise that Liz might make. . . nothing. As quietly as he could and still in the darkness, he walked to the far bedroom on the left. The door released a pent up groan making him release a damnation under his breath as he opened it slightly. He was barely able to stifle a gasp of awe as he laid eyes on a sleeping angel. Stepping in to the room slowly, he stayed his eyes on his dormant daughter lying peacefully.

The heavenly glow of the moonlight shone through the window falling on her soft, dark features. Her very short brown hair looked darker like the black coating of a raven, and her eyes though they were closed. . .he could still imagine those thoughtful hazel eyes sparkling as if they were diamonds. He stopped at the side of her bed, and could not help but only see his little girl enwrapped in the warmth of her childlike innocence and joy. There was no possible way. . .he just couldn't bear to think that the woman sleeping in her bed was his little girl. . ._when had she grown up?_ _How long have I been so blind?_

She mumbled something incoherently in her sleep before turning on her back and resting there peacefully. Upon seeing the semi-dark circles under her eyes, he immediately got a knot in his stomach at the thought of her restlessness and exhaustion. Very gingerly, he placed a rough hand on the soft skin of her cheek bringing back so many old memories. . .good ones, so many nights he spent doing this very thing. Even when he was in his cold and bitter depression, he had always found the strength to come up and watch his little firebird sleep. . . yes, she was a firebird reminding him of his youthful spirit so long ago. In every form and resemblance, she was his daughter save for one thing that tied her to her mother. . .her compassion for helping people and her kind caring heart. She'd deny both if anyone did tell her she carried those traits. . .it was her wanting to keep a tough insensitive shell to protect herself from unwanted things. She was a woman now though, and all things were bound to change sooner or later. . .

Slowly, he bent down placing a fatherly kiss on her cool forehead.

"I love you Liz"

With the sudden realization he hadn't slept in over two days, the sheriff retraced his steps and very quietly closed the door. He walked back downstairs to his room unknowing that the young woman upstairs was just opening her groggy eyes. She curled onto her left side facing the bright moon. With the covers pulled up to her chin, she reveled in the comforting warmth of familiarity. In the bare light, her eyes twinkled with building tears of frustration and confusion. Guiltiness bore a heavy cloud in the room, and she could do nothing but cry herself to sleep. Before falling dormant again, she softly whispered four unforgettable words to the man who no longer stood before her.

"I love you dad"


	5. Beautiful Day

_**(Attempted Rape and strong violence in this chapter with a bit of language) **_

**Chapter Four**

_**Day of the attack **_

**A** new beginning. **A** fresh start. **A** second chance.

After my father had left the room last night, something had set off in me . . . something great that I hadn't even realized until this morning. Everything became clear: my purpose in life, my father's love, my future . . . James. My troubled mind was cleared of all the distraught thoughts, and it was a wonderful feeling to have complete peace after so long.

Life had dealt me a hard hand this past year, but now the storm was clearing and in its stead was a clean bright sky. I still had things to clear out with my father and James but I would be sure to do it with patience and understanding and not with a chip on my shoulder. Other than Patrick, they were the two who mattered most to me in life . . . and I can't believe it took me four years to finally see that. This is where I belong, at home . . . my father would get his wish, and James would get much more than a second chance.

I was so excited to tell dad this morning about my decision to stay, but he seemed to be in such a rush. In fact he had acted weirdly . . . more than the ordinary that is. Spoke not once save for a few words and his eyes danced around like sparks in a fire. He probably felt bad about not being here yesterday when I had arrived . . . don't know, never got the chance to ask. After giving me a hug, he had put coffee in his thermos and was out the door with a quick goodbye before I could utter a word. Shame really because I had wanted to cook breakfast for the both of us. It's not like I would have been able to anyways, there was nothing to cook with . . . nothing but some rotten Chinese take out and a spoiled carton of milk. Blech. . . . . . my dad needed a woman.

Desperately hungry for a bite to eat, I was now on my way to the family diner in town for some good homemade food. Pulling into the small parking lot, I noticed a sleek black new Dodge Ram amidst all the older cars. . . _James_.

I parked the jeep right next to it, hoping that someway. . .somehow I would get an opportunity to speak to him. My prayers were answered, upon closing the car door I caught sight of him walking out to the lot. His long legs were covered by torn dark jeans, and his muscular arms were more than noticeable in the simple white t-shirt he wore. His light emerald eyes were hidden beneath the veil of his aviators, it was apparent though since his head was bowed that he hadn't noticed me yet.

It didn't take long for him to glance upwards and see me leaning against the driver's door of his truck. If it were not for the sunglasses, I'm sure I would've seen those greens morph through different emotions. It was enough to interpret what he was thinking with the way his jaw tightened and the lines in his forehead became more apparent. He stopped a few feet from me, folding tan arms in front of his broad chest. My mind was reeling with things to say to him. . .that was if my mouth would even open up to speak.. James was never a man for patience and without a word he unfolded his arms and gently pushed me aside from the door.

Before he had the chance to get in I worked up the courage to lay a hand on his tense back, meekly asking permission for his sole attention. When he didn't move, I took my other hand and placed it on his own giving it a small squeeze, shocking even myself. It wasn't long before his back relaxed beneath my touch and to my astonishment his hand turned in mine to hold tenderly. There was no "tingling sensation" but it sent a wave of delight rushing through me. . .I wasn't too late to fix things. I let all the air rush out of my constricted lungs feeling myself in return also relax. A few seconds passed with us in the same position before he turned around, still holding my hand in his. Wanting to see his eyes, I reached up and removed the sunglasses from his face, placing them on the crown of his head. His serene green eyes twinkled with that good humor he was known for and even though there was no smile I knew he was trembling with happiness. Volumes were spoken between us even though not one word had been spoken yet. My hand grew sweaty in his as I gathered more courage to say the needed words.

"James. . .I can't change the past"

Looking down away from his stare, I pondered for a second on what I was about to do. This is it, there is really no turning back after. . .this. Could I come to love him the way he loves me? Could I abandon myself to him and let go? Before the second thoughts impacted my actions, I felt something heavy rest on my shoulder. Looking up I was greeted once more with those ever soft emerald orbs. . .empty of the arrogance that once was apparent in his every physical trait.

"Will you meet me tonight Liz?"

". . .what?"

"Liz, I'm not upset with you. You and I both have been through a lot since. . .well since high school. Let's put the past behind us, and focus on our future. . . . . . . . .together"

Only then did I notice those lips set into that small Cheshire smile making me blush sheepishly for the first time. . .in who knows how long! A faint blush worked its way unto his cheeks also as he gathered my other hand in his. My heart didn't flutter nor did my stomach fill with butterflies. . .my mind however was flooded with a rushing torrent of thoughts. This is what I wanted. . .just keep repeating that to yourself Liz. This is what you wanted, he is what you wanted.

"I agree James"

His eyes flashed momentarily in shock, making me smile in return.

"I'm tired of running. . .no more fighting. I want you James. . .I want _**us**_"

_Good girl, now that wasn't that hard. . .was it? Still, where did "I want you James" come from. . .that's a bit of a stretch. _The initial surprise faded, and his eyes lightened up with a bubbling amount of joy and love. It almost made me sick to my stomach how much I was deceiving him into believing false emotions. _Not entirely false. . .just give it time Liz._ It was my turn to be shocked when he bent his head down and placed a light kiss on my unexpecting lips. I wouldn't call it unpleasant, but it certainly wasn't anything to get excited about. Just as quickly, he pulled back bringing my hands up to his lips to lay a chaste kiss.

"Tonight. . .go to our old meeting spot at eight. There's something I need to tell you"

Left in a stupor by the kiss, I had no time to argue before he got in his truck and rode away. _There's something I need to tell you._ Oh God, this could only mean one thing. . .it's what he promised me twelve years ago.

"_**Lizzy, one day when we're old enough. . .I'm going to ask you to marry me" **_

_**A burst of giggles erupted from my mouth making James turn crimson with embarrassment. **_

"_**Jim, you're so silly" **_

_**Thirteen year old James pouted his lips before stepping closer to my shorter form. I merely looked up to him with that same bright humor in my eyes before my attention was taken away to the glittering image of the setting sun on the river. **_

"_**I'm serious Lizzy. . .I swear it, one day I'll propose to you on this same spot" **_

_**My innocent ten year old eyes shifted over to stare at James again, the laughter dying from my lips. A warm giddiness fluttered over me as I took in those perfect green eyes staring so intently at me. **_

"_**No way. . .I'm going to marry a strong man" **_

Of course, James had gotten upset over my words. . .like usual. Funny how I still remembered that day after twelve years, and now he would make true his words as would I. James may not be a fighter at heart, but he had a gentle comforting way about him that set me at ease. He was a great man in his own ways: calm, powerful, a soldier, rich, sensitive yet strong.

_Mrs. Wilkins. . .Mrs. Elizabeth Katie Wilkins. _Hmm, nice little ring to it, this day was getting better and better.

_**XxX**_

_**4:00pm-----Six hours later **_

"Hey dad, it's Liz. . .yes, I'm okay. I was just wondering if you knew where my old boxes were"

Numerous boxes and old artifacts laid scattered across my bed and my closet door was wide open to reveal nothing but a few t-shirts. I had just gone through the last box I had in my room and to no success did I find what I was looking for.

"In the attic? What are they doing up there. . . . . . .oh you did? No, that's okay dad. Thanks. . .I'm just looking for something someone gave me. What time are you coming home?"

I was already making my way up the mini set of stairs at the other end of the house. I'd never felt so desperate to find something in such a short amount of time.

"Why so late? Oh right. . .well, I'm going out tonight so don't wait up. . . . . . . . . . .somewhere dad with someone. We can talk tomorrow if you want. Okay, I've got to go now, talk to you later. . . .love you too dad, bye"

Stopping at the mid sized door, I set the phone down on a side table preparing myself for the ridiculous amount of dust in the attic. Very slowly I opened the door enough to peek my head inside to see the sun's rays lighting up the usual dreary darkness (thank God). Upon entering I found myself stepping over and around countless trunks and antique furniture. It was hard enough trying to find just one box amongst a sea of them, but to add to the challenge there was a thick coating of dust on everything rendering it nearly impossible to recognize anything familiar. So I started from the front and worked my way towards the back, scanning and touching everything that came into my path. It wasn't long before I was coughing from all the particles flying around in the stuffy air. Minutes searching turned into hours and by the time I reached the back of the room, my clothes were soaked with sweat and my visible skin was grimy with dirt. My dad had just about THE worst memory. . .ever. If my box was here, it would be in the front with all the recent stuff. . . not with all the pre-civil war antiques. Yet still I continued to look until I came to the last item, a large dark trunk. Up to my wits end, I temporarily gave up on the search and let curiosity get the best of me. Crouching down on the floor, I found there was no lock and lifted the heavy lid with ease.

The sight I was greeted with nearly took the air from my lungs in amazement. It looked like nothing inside had been touched or even seen in two hundred years. . .not one fleck of dust or dirt was present. There were several different objects, all begging me to touch and hold them, but my attention was immediately given to a hatchet looking weapon. It clearly reminded me of an Indian tomahawk with the way the wooden handle was crafted. As I picked it up, I noticed a name barely visible on the worn metal. It was hard to pick out since the letters were faded, but I managed to read _**"Capt. B M"**_. With a laugh, I put it aside to take with me downstairs.

"I wonder if it stands for Benjamin Martin. . .how funny. I've heard that dad was named for an old family hero. . ."

I stood up from the floor, getting ready to close the trunk lid when something glimmered off the sun's light out of the corner of my eye. I glanced to see a small sliver of a silver blade, hidden beneath a blue jacket and many papers. Weird how I found myself extremely drawn to whatever was intentionally buried deep within the trunk. Without thinking, I dug my hands into the sea of papers and cried out when something bit my hand. Lifting up my left hand, I saw blood dripping down unto my arm from my palm. . .the cut wasn't too deep, a bandage would take care of that.

"Damn it Elizabeth, look at the mess you've made"

A big mess, there was a trail of blood along many of the papers that were already scattered and crumpled from me digging into the trunk like a madwoman. I got up from the floor yet again, cradling the wounded left hand to my chest and closing the lid of the trunk. Just when I was about to step away, I saw the old hatchet where I left it on the floor.

"On second thought, maybe it's best I leave you up here BM"

Opening the trunk lid once more, I set the weapon on top where I found it hoping that no one would come up here looking for a particular something in this trunk. I can only imagine all the generations of Martins rolling in their graves because of me. . . I've just desecrated family documents with my own blood and carelessness. As I was about to close the trunk, I couldn't help but look at the shimmering blade that was more viewable now since my hastiness before. Going against reason, I gave into curiosity once again and this time carefully reached and picked out the antique weapon. Lifting it up to view better in the sunlight, my eyes scanned the long length starting at the intricately designed hoary hilt and ending at the still sharp tip of the blade where a sliver of my blood was present. Whatever blacksmith crafted this sure had a reason to be proud. . .with some tender loving care, this sword could be amazingly stunning. With closer inspection, I discovered lettering running down across the blade. I was only able to make out a few letters since rust and just pure age made it hard to read.

"_**C **__**– L. - - L - I - M - A V- - G - O N 17 -7 B - - T I - H G - - E N - - - G - O - S"**_

James has got to see this, he's going to go crazy when he gets a hold of this. Maybe he'll be able to discern the rest of the letters. . .I hoped. Looking down at my watch, my eyes widened in alarm.

"Six 'o clock!"

With that said, I hurried downstairs to take a shower and get ready for an unforgettable night. . . . the sword just happened to follow me in my right hand.

_**XxX**_

_**7:40pm **_

A nice little walk will calm my nerves. . ._god, where the hell is he?_ _Get a grip on yourself. . .for goodness sake, twenty more minutes. _I paced the length of the timber bridge for the. . . too many times to count. Everything around was calm and silent unlike my moving, cursing form. Blame it on the military, but I've got a sailor's mouth that I'm trying to rid myself of now. It was extremely hard to tame my mouth at a moment like this. . .to think that in less than an hour I'd be an engaged woman.

Stopping at the top of the bridge, I set the large case on the top of the railing, already tired of lugging the thing around for the past ten minutes. I closed my eyes for a second to relish the sweet silence that blanketed me, nature's song filling my soul with a needed peace. _Just relax. . .relax. _

_**Snap**_

My eyes flew open at the alien noise invading my tranquility, picking up the case I walked off the bridge and onto the rugged path that led through the woods. Glancing down at my watch, I took in the time, 7:48.

"Hello? James, is that you?"

I stood still for awhile, waiting for the answer that never came. With no response, I slackened the tight hold on the box and relaxed thinking it was most likely a rabbit or coon. Forgetting the noise, I veered off the path and walked down the bank of the Santee to admire the sun's light glittering off the water's surface. Memories flooded me of the innumerable times I spent here with Patrick and James, swimming in the river, fishing, riding our horses, hide and seek, my first cigarette, my first broken bone, my first crush. . . . . . . .my first kiss. _James. _I was twelve and he was a freshman in high school, we were alone here by the river waiting for my brother to meet us. It still brought a smile to my face when I thought of it. . .

"_**Catch me if you can Jimmy" **_

_**I ran wildly on the skirts of the Santee, looking behind my shoulder to see if James Wilkins followed me. In my hand was his favorite cap that he had autographed by some famous ball player. . . **_

"_**Lizzy, come back here. I'm not chasing you. . .stop it" **_

_**Stopping I turned around to see him standing still with an unamused look, not moving a muscle towards me. My lips formed into a pout before an idea hit me, running to the edge of the murky river I dared him. **_

"_**Oh come on you baby. . .afraid that I'm going to outrun you again. Or maybe. . ." **_

_**A devilish grin swept unto my face making my hazel eyes twinkle mischievously. **_

"_**maybe I'll just give this a good washin' "**_

_**Exasperation flooded his features and with the speed of lightning he was on the balls of his feet, chasing me down the bank. Wasting no time, I was off again running with a spirituous laugh roaring from my lips. **_

"_**You're not going to be happy when I catch you" **_

"_**I'm not afraid of you Jimmy, what are you going to do? Tickle me to death?" **_

_**I looked behind my shoulder to see him picking up speed quicker than the fast pace I ran. Before I knew it, I was being tackled from behind and the hat flew out of my hands to land on dry soil. Meanwhile James and I both flew into the muddy river, his arms tight around my middle. He dragged me up to the surface whilst I was kicking and fighting against his firm hold. **_

"_**James Wilkins, let go of me!" **_

_**His arms encircled me tighter and he refused to let go. Since he was a tall 6'1 already, he easily stood on the river's bottom while I would struggle to stay afloat. . .was it not for his arms around me. **_

"_**No" **_

_**His voice came out barely as a whisper, and looking up I gasped to find his bright green eyes alight with a weird expression. I'd never seen a boy look at me that way before. . . **_

"_**What's wrong? Jim?" **_

_**He loosened his arms around my waist, but I found myself not swimming away but interested in whatever was happening with him. My eyes drew down into a concerned frown as I asked him again. **_

"_**James, please tell me what's wrong. . .I'm sorry if I. . ." **_

"_**Shh Lizzy, shh. . ."**_

_**Next thing I knew, his hand came up to cradle my left cheek. I merely was still, unsure of what to do or of what he was doing. This was all so new to me, and I could only watch as he lowered his head to mine. It's like he always knew where my lips were since he found them easily with his eyes closed. His lips settled on to mine perfectly, while in response my lips clenched tightly shut with my eyes widening every second. . . . **_

A sigh escaped the perimeter of my mouth as I remembered everything about that short five minute period. _What a day that had been!_ _A first kiss to remember. . . only because I slapped the crap out of James afterwards. _A spurt of giggles erupted from my lips thinking about all the times I beat up on James as we grew up together.

_**Snap**_

My eyebrows pulled down into a frown when I heard that same noise again and it sounded to be closer. Instinctively, my grip on the metal case tightened whilst my other hand flexed into a fist. _James wouldn't be playing tricks. . .before, yes. Tonight, no. _

"Who's there?"

My eyes shifted to look at the border of trees next to me where I heard the noise come from. . .nothing. This could just be my imagination tricking me, I was on the edge of my nerves here. Stepping away from the river, I walked closer to the foliage to further inspect the sound I heard. I hated it when I got this feeling of someone watching me, because most of the time I was right. I stopped in my tracks when the brush before me stirred. My breath catching up in my throat, I expected the worst and was prepared to give hell.

"Come on you bastard"

Yes, it was a stupid thing to do. . .and I felt even more incredibly idiotic when a mere rabbit jumped out from the bush. The little thing didn't even give me the time of day, and hopped away with its ears at attention. To make myself feel all the more foolish, I laughed nervously whilst reprimanding the small bugger, watching him run off.

"Sneaky thing, you shouldn't creep up on people like that. I could've hurt you. . ."

All of a sudden a large grimy hand came crashing on my lips as a silencer to any screams I may let out. Out of shock, I dropped the case to the floor and let out a deafening scream for help. It didn't take long for common sense to work in, and my arms and legs began flailing around aiming to strike at whoever held me. A bulky arm snaked around my thin waist and harshly pulled my body back to crash into something soft.

" 'Ush now sweet"

A raspy dark voice with a thick southern lilt spoke cruelly into my ear, his nasty breath blowing on my ear. I stilled momentarily, remembering all the training I was given for this type of situation. . ._calm Liz. Make him believe he's in control. . .no fear. Get control. Remember. . ._

"That's beder. . .tell mae shugar, what's a prettae thang like ewe doin' ere, and aell by 'erself. . ."

I could say nothing in response and only kept still, closing my eyes I got control of my fear. _Gather strength and courage within. . .block out the physical. . .forsake fear. . . then and only then can you triumph over your attacker. Calm Liz. . .calm. _The assailant loosened his arm around me to retrieve something out of his pocket.

"No madder, 'm ere to kaep ewe companae"

_Big mistake dumb ass._ Without hesitation I brought up my foot and slammed it roughly unto the toe of his foot. He released me, alowing me to elbow him violently in the gut. No longer the victim, I turned to face him. I became the aggressor. In a fighting stance, I watched him double over in pain with a pathetic groan falling from his tongue. Not wasting time, I took the opportunity to disable him completely, giving me the chance to call authorities. I lifted my leg and was in the motion to kick him when his arm caught me in mid-swing and threw me to the ground. The back of my head landed on a jagged rock, sending my mind in a thousand places all at once. I closed my eyes thinking it could relieve the building pain pounding in my skull. Bringing up a hand to cradle the injured area, I winced when my fingers met something warm and oozy.

"You'll pay for dat bitch"

Something snapped inside me. Boiling fury rushed in my blood. I blinked a few times before opening my eyes fully. A short, dark figure stood above me...the sharp edge of a knife glimmered in his hand._Oh God Liz, get a hold of yourself. _Without further hesitation, I crawled backwards away from him giving me time to think of something. . .anything. He followed me closely like a stalker pursuing its prey, having his weapon ever ready in his hand to use. His back was to the sun, so I couldn't see his facial features but I did notice his small stature. _You can take this guy, don't let him corner you. _I continued to edge away from him until my hands landed on something cool and hard. Looking back over my shoulder I was relieved to see the case I had brought with me. I focused my eyes once more on the dark man, seeing he had stopped right in between my parted feet. His dirty teeth flickered in the shadow of his face sending a fresh wave of disgust over me. My fingers fumbled all the more desperately with the case latches, trying to open it to get my hands on what was inside.

Just when I got the case unlatched, a coarse hand fastened unto my lower arm dragging me up roughly from the dirt. Crude, chapped lips smashed onto mine while I felt a sharp cold blade pressed to my throat. I did my best to seal my lips shut, but he still pried them open with his tongue. On pure instinct, I bit down firmly on his roaming foul member. . .with a cry, he let go of me putting a hand to his bleeding tongue. Looking at the blood staining his lip, I became aware of the metallic taste of blood pooling in my mouth. With a gag I spit out the acrid liquid, wanting to rid myself of the pungent taste of his nasty mouth.

Before I had the chance to look up, a large fist came out from the right and knocked me across my lower face sending me reeling to the ground. My head once again met with something hard before my body rolled away from it. Blinking back the white stars trying to cloud my vision, I scampered on all fours to try and stand up. A black boot clobbered at my ribs. . .hurling me through the air to land on my back again. Searing pain shot down through my left side. Opening up my eyes, I could barely discern the dark figure of the man standing above me. The metallic taste filled my mouth once again with my own blood as I felt something sliding down from my nose unto my top lip. Never one to give up, I rolled over on my stomach unable to stand up lightheaded and with the guy over me. Not too far from me, I saw my salvation. . .the case! With renewed vigor, I crawled on all fours towards my goal, wincing at the pressure put on my left ribcage.

"Where you goin' lil missy?"

His boot made contact with my body again but this time it was a rigid blow to the head. . .the world literally spun before my cloudy eyes. The pain blinding all senses, I rolled over on my back with closed eyes. _Stay alert Liz. . .don't give up. . . James. _But instead of his brilliant green eyes, it was two piercing bluish grey orbs I saw in my mind. A dangerous intensity blazed in their depths. . .they spoke to me with a feverish determination and craze, stirring within me the dying fire to rage again. _Fight. _

Something heavy collapsed on top of my shaky form, and next thing I felt was the warm breeze blowing over my exposed chest with boorish hands abrasively exploring the bare skin. Regaining awareness of my surroundings, I squinted my eyes open to see a full head of dirty blonde hair just inches from my face. My eyes widened when next my ears heard something being unzipped and I felt hands fumbling around with the buttons of my jeans. _Get his attention. . .think fast. _I did the one thing women are especially good at in this type of situation. . .scream.

"JAMES!!!"

And it worked, the guy immediately forgot about what he was doing and looked up with a livid stunned expression. I took the opportunity quickly to catch him off guard and used a defense technique I was taught in my first weeks in boot camp. Rapidly throwing myself forward, I rammed him in between the eyes with my forehead. The result was immediate, he sat up with a moan, bringing both hands up to cover his bleeding nose. Continuing to use this element of surprise, I brought up a leg and kneed him in between the legs. His mouth gaped open in pain as he rolled unto his back next to me, blood running down unto his sweaty neck. I shook what was left of my stupor, and turned over unto my stomach, slowly but surely getting up unto the balls of my feet. Every muscle protested against the sudden movement, but the image of those cold blue eyes pushed me to go on. My eyes settled on the metal case that lay a few feet away. . ._Get it! _Running towards it, I tripped and fell when something latched unto my right foot. My chin hit the dirt, looking behind me I saw the bloody face of my attacker. . .a triumphant irritated glare in his dark eyes. _Ignore him. . .get to the case. _

With a grunt of determination, I used my elbows and knees to crawl forward to get to the target. . .dragging with me the short stocky man. Every move became more desperate as I felt him climbing up my legs, a sense of urgency caused me to move quicker. When my hand reached the edge of the lid, a stabbing pain slashing through my lower back. . .over and over again. I screamed in agony, but stood focused on the object at hand. Throwing open the lid, I grabbed the silver hilt of the antique weapon to draw it out. With a sturdy ferocity, I turned my body back around thrusting the fine sword into whatever it could meet. . .thin air or flesh. My eyes widened as they met the morbid gaze of my attacker, there was a steady stream of blood running out from the corner of his mouth. Looking down I gasped when I saw the long blade buried completely in the man's thick throat. . . blood seeping from the wound and rolling down to cover the sides of my shaking hand.

With faltering strength, I pulled the sword out and pushed him off where he landed on his side away from me. Closing my eyes, I tried to block out the pathetic spurts of air escaping from the dying man lying next to me. I listened as his frantic breaths became shallow. . .I felt his burning desperation to hold on to life. . .I smelled his growing fear of darkness and death. . .I suffered his regret and sorrow as it clouded my own mind. My own life seemed to wallow away into the shadows, as I felt myself losing control of my conscious mind. My body trembled with the bitter unfeeling numbness overtaking my senses This is what it must feel like to die. . .

These are my last few moments on earth. . .I was to perish alone and in sin. . .cold and half-naked. I would never again feel the comforting love of my father. . .I would never hear Patrick's heart warming laugh. . .I would never feel warm arms around me. . .I would never experience true love. . .I would never have my own children. . .I would never marry. A rushing torrent of emotions flooded the gates of my heart as I thought of the future I would never have. . .of the man I would never see again. . ._**James.**_

With all becoming quiet around my still form, I slowly forsook the fighting spirit within me and abandoned myself to the rising darkness. The sun's dimming rays grew cold on my pale skin, and the warm air gave to a frigid cruel wind. My hand unflexed allowing the old sword to fall away from my tranquil body, stopping a few inches from my stretched out hand. I could not see the faded lettering shimmering in the setting sun. . .every letter evident and visible.

With my world slipping away, I muttered three last words beneath my breath.

_God help me_

_**So began my time in hell. . . **_

_**XxX**_

_.thank you for taking the time to read. _


	6. Short Lived Victory

_**Enjoy.**_

**Chapter Five**

_**July 13, 1778----British Camp following the Battle of Camden**_

_**Another Victory for the Crown!**_

There was an air of jubilation present all throughout the chaotic campsite, with every success came the promise of returning home soon to England. Despite this air, the attitude all around was still sober. . .four years had already passed since the war's beginning. Silently and slowly, the spirit of the English was breaking. . .it was only in times like this that there was really any true hope, however short lived it may be. The younger officers were already preparing for the move further northwest, whilst the older more heavy officers stood by in a large tent eating their fill in triumph. There was but one high ranking officer absent, and he sat brooding in the darkness far away from the boisterous tent. He seldom, if ever, partook in any of those gluttonous, snippy gatherings. . .today happened to be one of those rare occasions. Just as always, it had ended on a sour note with the Dragoon commanding officer being shunned by the more senior "wealthier" leader.

In the twenty-four hours that had passed since the plantation incursion, wild fire rumors had already spread throughout the whole camp about the Colonel's atrocious actions. It didn't take long for the Lord General to get wind of the word, and to keep face in the eyes of his subordinates he had confronted the Colonel in front of all the officers. This wasn't the first ill conducted raid he had done, nor would it be the last. . . while he did respect his superior officer, he and he alone was the commander of his Dragoons. Nothing or **NO ONE **would take that away. . ._**he**_ was in charge. To add to his frustrations, this morning he discovered his rapier missing, a gift the Lord General had given to him on his promotion to Colonel a year ago. And yesterday evening, an ambush had been made on the convoy going to Camden. . .all the men save for one were dead and the rebel prisoner escaped. Now, there was this "Ghost" issue he had to settle before matters grew worse. With all that had transpired the past few days, the Colonel's cup of wrath was nearly seething over with aggravation. He had no clue that issues were just about to get shoddier. . .

Three uniformed men stood outside the Colonel's tent, the back of their service jackets darkly soiled with sweat. Their black trousers dirtied with multiple grass stains, and their military boots unpolished with scuffs blemishing the outer black leather. Despite their physical appearance, they stood tall with their chins tucked in and heads held high. . . save for the young lieutenant whose unsure eyes danced around like sparks in a fire. His appearance was more disheveled with his military jacket hanging off his small frame and his chest belt nearly falling off his shoulder. He looked no older than seventeen, his young face made old by grime, blood, and sweat. . . marking the innocence that once surrounded him. It made anyone wonder how one such as him came to be a lieutenant. . .let alone how he withered his way into the most elite cavalry of the British Army. His apprehensive brown eyes struggled to stay focused on the shorter of the two captains whom was speaking firmly in a low voice to him.

"Lieutenant, are you positive about the Sergeant? Did you check with the infirmary? Did you inquire the men?"

"Y – ye--yes sir. None of the doctors have seen him and from what my men have told me , Sergeant Winslow has been missing since yesterday's raid. He was absent at both accountability checks today. . ."

"Lieutenant Meade, why was this issue not brought sooner to my attention?"

"I—uh, well sir. . ."

Borden was the officer most recognized for his patience and understanding, but today was the wrong day to play fiddle dawdle. The Colonel was in a fouler mood this afternoon, and Borden had been on the receiving end of it like always. There was no man closer to the Colonel, and there were times when they could relax and maybe have a drink together. But those times were cast into the shadow, the Colonel had no friends or "acquaintances" and he treated Borden now like any inferior officer. . .though with a bit more toleration.

"Are you incapable of keeping charge of seven men Lieutenant? Is it too much for your small shoulders to handle? Shall I take this heavy burden from you? Perhaps, you would prefer the simple life of a private."

The young man's eyes widened slightly, before solemnly closing when he bowed his head away from the vigilant stare of the Captain. Meanwhile the other officer that had remained quiet the entire time in observance, felt empathy for the younger inexperienced lieutenant and decided to speak up.

"Sir, the lieutenant made me aware of the Sergeant's absence this morning at breakfast. It was my decision to hold back from telling you or the Colonel until after the battle. . ."

Captain Borden turned his questioning eyes toward the taller captain, craning his neck a bit as he looked upwards listening to the rest of what this newcomer had to say.

"It wouldn't help you nor the Colonel to have other issues on your mind going into battle. . .besides that fact, I wanted to speak to the all the men first. I also took it upon myself to meet privately with one of the younger privates who had overheard the sergeant's drunk grumbles. Sergeant Winslow mentioned going to the nearest town to find him a erm. . . .some pleasurable company sir"

Wilkins coughed a bit to loosen up the itchy tightness of his throat, whilst trying to keep steady eyes with the older officer. Borden exchanged quick glances with the more confident lieutenant before once more putting Wilkins beneath his guarded stare.

"Sir, I can take a small group of men and. . ."

"That is for the Colonel to decide Captain Wilkins"

Inwardly, Wilkins winced at the surly way Borden was addressing him when just last week they were close enough to be called friends. He remembered the first time they had met. . .Charles Town two years ago. At that time, Borden was just a lieutenant and Wilkins also one in the South Carolina Loyalist Militia. It was quite a surprise when they both saw each other again a month ago. . .both already promoted to Captain in their respective outfits. Last week was when Borden approached him about a transfer over to the Green Dragoons, without a drop of hesitation he accepted the opportunity of a lifetime. . . . . .or so he thought it was.

"Very well Captain Borden"

Wilkins gave a short nod, and turned smartly towards the tent's entrance. He barely put a foot out, when Borden's stringent voice reached to stop him.

"_**I**_will discuss it with the Colonel, Wilkins. . .wait here with the Lieutenant"

Captain Wilkins turned back around with a wondrous look in his emerald eyes to question Borden's orders.

"Why. . ."

Borden gave a reprimanding look to the younger man, silencing the rest of the question before it could leave his lips. They were the same rank, but Captain Borden still had seniority over him. . .not to mention the fact that he was also considered lower than all the other riders because of his place of birth.

"Yes sir"

He backed down, stepping to the side away from the tent's entrance not wanting to attract any more contempt than he had at the moment. The lieutenant meanwhile was standing by silently watching the quiet feud between both junior officers.

Borden took a deep breath whilst straightening his jacket before hesitantly stepping into the lion's den. . .he wasn't a fool, he knew what the colonel's response would be. This was the last thing he'd ever want to hear, that one of his OWN men fled camp without permission to leave. . . .or worse abandoned the outfit. Borden felt a fleeting amount of sympathy for the stupid Sergeant that would get more than what he deserved when the Colonel got a hold of him.

The young lieutenant and captain watched with hidden interest in their eyes as Borden walked into the tent, closing the flap behind him to block off any curious eyes. With the coast clear, Wilkins scooted closer to the tent's entrance, eager to hear anything transpiring within the tent. Lieutenant Meade merely looked on with dull eyes and a small smile, standing next to the other side of the tent flap. The first words were heard. . . .

"**No, sir" **

"**.. . . . .WHAT PART OF, I WAS NOT TO BE DISTURBED, DID YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?!" **

The thunderous aggressive voice boomed throughout the approximate area, and the men passing by didn't stop to speculate. They moved as fast as their feet could take them out of the danger zone, meanwhile Wilkins stood still with his heart beating frantically alongside the Lieutenant. Since arriving last night and from what he had seen so far, Wilkins knew Captain Borden to be quicker on his feet than all the other officers. He was really the only one that the Colonel tolerated at a great amount. Already Wilkins had overheard the men calling Borden the Colonel's bitch. . .this wasn't exactly what he was expecting when he chose to join up with the dragoons. Where was the honor, integrity, and discipline?

"**. .. . . . . . . .Sir, there is a pressing matter requiring your attention" **

"**I find you as of late, a thorn in my side Borden. . . . ."**

Wilkins once more became engrossed in the conversation going on between both officers inside the tent. He heard no reply and leaned his ear closer to the partially closed flap, straining to listen in on the exchange.

"**Well. . .don't just stand there like a boorish slug. Go on with it then**!"

"**We have a straggler amongst the men, sir. . .a Sergeant Winslow. . . ." **

The lieutenant's eyes widened when a crisp pristine voice questioned him coolly from behind.

"Lieutenant, do you have nothing better to do than stand curiously by your commanding officer's tent?"

Slowly he turned around, unprepared to meet the snarling beast that held his unpromising fate. Upon sudden realization, he tightened his arms and immediately went to the position of attention, rendering a sloppy salute at the same time. The older officer stood there apparently annoyed, rolling his eyes at the negligence of the young man. He noticed behind the lieutenant stood a much taller Dragoon officer with his ear nearly pressed to the tent cloth. With notable irritation, he stepped around the lieutenant and approached the unaware captain. Meanwhile Wilkins continued listening to Borden's explanation of events, waiting for the hellish response from the Colonel.

"Captain, may I ask what you are doing?"

Wilkins turned slowly to see the Lord General himself standing there in a critical stance. There was a scowl on his mature face, and his lips were set in a severe line with his eyes thinning into small slits of distrust. The captain's back immediately shot up ramrod straight, and he looked directly ahead completely forgetting the conversation ongoing inside the tent.

"Lord General, I. . ."

"You were just going to explain yourself"

"Y—Yes Lord General"

His voice started out with a slight stutter making him clamp his mouth shut after the short words. . .hesitant to say more. Looking down to the dry dirt, he closed his eyes to gather enough thoughts to form a coherent sentence.

"There is a man missing among our ranks sir. . .Captain Borden is inside talking to the Colonel. He has instructed me to wait here"

Cornwallis's attention was pulled away from the tense captain to the slightly open flap of the tent. His eyes widened, and the hand held behind his back tightened as a sign of his growing anger.

"Did he?"

"Yes Lord General"

"Very well"

Without further word, the high ranking officer stormed past him and into the awaiting tent. A full breath of air blew out of the young man's mouth in relaxation while he walked over to the still ramrod straight lieutenant.

"Lieutenant!"

"YES Lord General SIR"

Wilkins released a frustrated sigh, and barked at the back of the young man.

"MEADE!"

The lieutenant jumped up noticeably, and turned around quickly revealing a sweaty face and wide eyes.

"Oh Captain Sir. . ."

"Lieutenant, I need you to go ready the men for a patrol. . .tell them it is by the Colonel's orders"

"Aye sir, but the Colonel hasn't"

"I am aware of that Meade"

The lieutenant stood there hesitant, not knowing whether to disobey the lieutenant or issue a command that had no base.

"NOW Lieutenant!!"

Without further order, Meade ran as fast as he could away from Wilkins towards the enlisted tents. Wilkins shook his head in disapproval wondering how long this young man would last in the Dragoon ranks. . .let alone as an officer. He turned back towards the tent, awaiting the first sign of an order or the colonel. Many minutes seemed to pass before he heard the booming voice of Cornwallis.

"**Colonel, ****NO**** more excuses! You have breached protocol far too many times, and NOW you cannot keep control of your own men. If you do not straighten up this regiment then I will see to it that I find someone else who can" **

Wilkins was caught unaware once again when the large frame of the General burst forth from the tent. He didn't have time to salute, as the broad shouldered man made off faster than a charging cavalry of Dragoons. The Captain watched in hidden amusement and relaxed once more before the flap to the tent swung open suddenly. A blinding flash of red and green rushed before Wilkins' eyes as a booming voice made the authoritative presence well known in the approximate area.

"BLOODY HELL, IT WILL BE YOUR HEAD BORDEN!!"

The tall man stalked off, his hand swinging naturally by his sword, ready to murder any who dare come into his path. Borden stopped shortly and in a breathy but steady voice threatened the Captain.

"Wilkins if the men aren't ready in less than one minute. . .I will personally see to it you are flogged and dismissed"

Borden was off again, trying to keep composed whilst walking rapidly to catch up to the fuming Colonel. The Captain wasted no time, and with a determined look made his way to the enlisted tents. . .hoping that for once the wayward lieutenant had followed through with an order.


	7. 1778

(It has taken me nearly a year to update and for that I do greatly apologize. I have been a big tease holding Tavington off from your delight, but the wait will be worth it. I'm working on my next chapter already, and it should be done within two weeks. Happy Holidays!)

Chapter Six

_July 13, 1778—1400 hours ----Eight miles west of the British Camp_

With a painful groan, I brought a clammy hand to my hot forehead. . . my body burned with an unforgivable heat. _Am I dead and in hell? _ The last thing I remember was . . . . . . . .oh God I don't remember anything. I did my best to move, but it felt as if all my muscles were stiff and fighting against it. Everything ached with the slightest movement especially my back, and I found it even a struggle to open my eyes against the intense sunlight resting on my eyelids. Taking in a deep breath, I winced when my left ribs protested against the sudden strain.Laying silent, I struggled again to remember anything. . . . anything at all yet to no avail. My head even throbbed to think.

I felt something wet and slimy slide across my left cheek causing me to flash my eyes wide open. Despite the blinding sun, I was able to make a weird tube like face right above my head. . .its tongue hanging a few centimeters from my nose. Squinting my eyes in an attempt to clear my vision, I made the figure clear to be a horse's head. A drop of its slimy drool fell unto my cheek right next to my lip making me groan in disgust. I brought up my other hand to wipe it off when I caught a caked red mess covering it entirely. My eyes widened as I examined it, some of it was still wet. . . .blood?!

Quite awake now and startled, I bolted straight up or tried to at least. Moaning in pain against the strain on my body, my head pulsed sending the world to spin around me. The horse grunted uneasily with my abrupt motion and moved away from my form towards the hay fields not too far away. Falling backwards to lay again on the ground, I reexamined my hand and noticed the blood trickled down unto my arm which made me search for any wound. There was none, it had come from somewhere else. I felt a burning at the back of my head, like someone or something had torn out a bundle of my hair. Hesitantly I reached back and touched the nape of my neck, working up gently to the area that burned. To my relief, my hair was still there but was in a matted mess. I let out a yelp when my hand made contact with the scalp, there was a small wound and it was still warm and wet. Just to confirm my fear, I brought my bloodied hand before my face to discover a scarlet sticky substance on my fingertips. A queasy uneasiness pooled in my abdomen and rolling over, I emptied the remaining contents of my stomach. With a groan I turned on my side away from the pungent smell, and to my horror came face to face with a gory body.

On impulse I let out a blood curdling cry, wasting no time to sit up and scurry away from the haunting image. The dead man's eyes were open, his lifeless orbs seemed to stare at me in accusation and his lips were parted telling of his desperation to hold on to his last breath. With tears burning my eyes I turned away from the horrible sight only to be greeted by a bloodied sword. A memory flashed out of the dormant recesses of my mind.

_A young woman walked on a dirt trail along the Santee River humming a sweet lullaby. The restless wind blew dark curls aside from her face revealing sharp eyes the color of a sunset. She wore black breeches with brown riding boots and a white collar blouse. To her side, followed a black steed whose ears at that exact moment were rigid sensing danger nearby. She too sensed something bad coming when all was deathly silent save for the faint sound of hoofbeats growing louder and closer from behind her. Turning around, she saw a uniformed horseman in the distance approaching fast and recklessly. Her horse grew restless when the ground beneath them began vibrating at the pounding hoofbeats nearing them. She gasped when the horseman pulled out a pistol from his pack, aiming it straight at her. With no time to react, she slapped Putnam's behind to spur her on home, knowing that if anything happened her family would be alerted once Putnam arrived home without her. A gun fire sounded, and she began running when a ball of dust smoked upwards a few inches from her right foot. She didn't look back, not even when she heard him right behind her, nor even when he dismounted his horse and began chasing her on foot. The pursuit was short, she was overpowered by the man's strength and speed as he grabbed her roughly from the back. His gruesome hands bruised her delicate skin mercilessly while his foul lips bit at her neck. She struggled against his hold, shaking back and forth in his arms. . .and with a heart stopping cry she stepped on his foot as hard as she could. This did nothing though to relinquish his grip on her, and only angered him further. With a crisp British accent he threatened her with a long sword to her throat. When she became stock still he brought down the sword and continued his violent attentions on her body. _

_Snap_

_The attacker stopped and looked around suspiciously, half expecting the American Regulars to jump out of the bushes. The young woman took this to her advantage and bit down hard on his arm. In shock, he released her letting out a hellish yell that echoed across the river's surface. As if the devil himself was on her, she ran recklessly forward, delving into the forest's maze. Branches bit at her face, sharp thorns and bushes tore at her legs and arms. All the while she could hear leafs and branches crunching, signaling the man's fast approach. A large root stuck out from the ground not too far in front, waiting to ensnare her in its clutch. _

_Collapsing to the rocky earth, she sprained her ankle and her head collided with a jagged rock. Fuzzy stars clouded her vision, and her lungs begged for the air that they were deprived. Every part of her body ached, but it was nothing compared to the excruciating slashes assailing her back. Her thin white shirt turned into small strips of crimson blood. The brutal man standing above her laughed sadistically, waving the fine sword back and forth. The blade now glimmered brightly in the sunset with her fresh blood. Her body numbed, and she felt nothing when he grabbed a hand full of her muddy hair. Wrenching her head upwards, he punched her viciously across the face sending her to spiral once more to the mud. He continued to abuse her with multiple kicks to her abdomen until she finally lay still, no longer writhing in fearful panic. _

_The man quickly took advantage and began disrobing, throwing his scarlet jacket on a nearby branch and unfastening his breeches. Falling on top of her broken body he fumbled with her pants, unaware of the boiling rage coursing through her veins. She slowly turned her head to the right to see his weapon of choice. . .the sword. It all happened too fast: the adrenaline pumping, the miracle drop of strength she had to lift up the sword, her captor's look of shock, his widened eyes when she drove the blade through his throat, the blood seeping unto her hands from his wound. She pulled out the sword, pushing the dying man off of her. That was when she took notice of the military jacket hanging not too far away. . .Green Dragoons. _

I stumbled back away from the scene, did I do this?! I bowed my head in disturbance, what has happened to me. I gasped upon realization that I wore the exact black breeches, brown riding boots, and ripped white blouse as the young woman. My breasts were revealed, and I immediately blushed looking around as if someone could be looking at me from a bush nearby. My body was covered in mud and blood, and my hair was in no better situation. The long tresses were bunched up together in knots and grime. . .I'm sure I appeared almost like a corpse. No identity to claim me, I felt frustrated and confused beyond reason. Unending questions clouded my train of thought. . .Who was the man I killed? What day was it? Where was I? WHO was I?

Now was not the time for questions however. . . I had to get out of there. It would not help to be found next to a dead body with a bloody sword at the scene. I needed help most of all, not only because I was walking blind but my wounds could be developing a nasty infection. I grasped the military jacket off the tree branch nearest me and covered myself with it. This had to be a dream. . .please God, let this be a dream.

Whistling shortly, I walked slowly over to the horse grazing in the fields. She obediently came to my side, nudging my tender shoulder with her nose.

"Take me far from here girl. . ."

As if she knew what I had whispered, she lowered herself to her front knees crouching down so I could mount her easily. With a paining moan, I pulled myself unto her back getting a loose grip on her reins. By the position of the sun, it appeared to be about midday. . .perfect time to come across someone. . .anyone out here in the country. I looked towards the west, nothing but forest stretched as far as the eye could see and its forbiding darkness and damp uncertainty turned me away. Looking towards the east, my eyes took in the hay fields rolling across the flat land. . . .it comforted me in a weird manner to know what immediately was laid out before me and to see the bright sun light glimmering off the rolling hay. With a gentle nudging kick to the horse's side, I directed her towards the east.

XxX

_2 hours later_

"Captain. . . .Captain, sir!"

Bordon looked up to see a private galloping towards him from the edge of the woods. He was not the only one who had heard him and soon Captain Wilkins arrived at Bordon's side, inquisitively looking to the private. The private's eyes were a sea of panic, and vomit stained his uniform.

"What is it Private?"

"Captain, I have found Sergeant Winslow. Not far from here, less than half a mile into the woods. . . . . . . .it's a bloody mess sir"

Both Bordon and Wilkins quickly looked over toward the forest, expecting to see the sergeant himself walking out of its borders. They had spent the last four hours circling the surrounding area. . .searching woods, fields, streams, trails, and farms. They had even questioned some occupants of the surrounding towns, which resulted in the deaths of an innkeeper and his wife. . .Colonel Tavington's doing.

The men were restless with the scorching heat, and Wilkins took notice that some of them were not actively searching for the Sergeant. The Captains were quite relieved yet apprehensive to hear news of the Sergeant. Wasting no further time, both charged forward into the forest on their horses, eager to have this over with soon. It did not take long for them to come upon the gory scene, it would have been hard to miss.

A man lay in a pool of his own blood on the muddy forest floor, apparently the fatal wound had been the gaping hole in his throat. His mouth was wide open, and his dead glassy eyes were staring at the heavens. His breeches were unbuttoned and pulled down but there was no clear injury below the waist. Already his skin was paled dramatically, and bugs of all sorts were crawling in and out of his crevices. A puddle of vomit lay next to his body, no doubt from the private. The sergeant's service jacket was missing, but there was no doubt he was a green dragoon. Borden recognized him immediately for this sergeant was one of the few men that constantly caused trouble with his riotous behavior in the ranks. Descending from his horse to further investigate the scene, Captain Bordon sighed.

"What a mess, and whoever caused it is sure to be miles away by now"

Wilkins dismounted and walked towards what greatly interested him, the elegant bladed weapon tainted with dried blood next to the dead. Picking it up, he observed the engraved letters on the fine blade at once.

"Col. William Tavington 1777 British Green Dragoons" The Colonel's battle sword? He glanced back down to where the sword had lain, a small imprint of a body had formed in the bloody mud next to the dead. Strips of white cloth were strewn about the ground, and impressions of hoof prints led away from the scene towards the fields from whence they came. . . a trail of blood drops followed. "No, she is wounded. These prints are still fresh, she is nearby"

Captain Bordon walked up to Wilkin's side, inquisitively glaring towards the weapon in his hand.

"She? A woman did this?"

"Yes Captain, a woman. See here, notice the imprint in the mud next to the body. It is too small to be that of a man's and too large to be that of a child. This blood does not belong to the Sergeant either, she was wounded and severely. I believe she may have been attacked, and fought back resulting in. . .this. She cannot be too far sir"

Wilkins caught the Captains stare, and followed it down to the exceptional sword. They both glanced to each other with knowing fearful eyes.

"This sword, it was stolen from. . ."

"Me."

Bordon took it from Wilkin's hands and made haste to return it to its owner who sat on horseback not far away. The Colonel inspected the bloodied blade with annoyance and dismay and set it aside in his pack.

"See to it that the body is properly taken care of Bordon. Captain Wilkins, I do not know why you are still standing there dumbfounded. Should you not be searching for the perpetrator of this murder

TAKE a group of men and start moving!"

"Yes Colonel"

Wilkins nodded curtly and mounted his horse. All of the men were circled around the corpse now, most covering their noses and some looking sick. This wasn't the first time the Captain had seen a gruesome corpse, nor would it be the last. Motioning for a few of the sicker men to follow him out east on horseback, he did not look back to see the resentment burning in Bordon's eyes as he prepared his own fire to burn the rotting sergeant.

XxX

"Hello?? Anyone. . ."

My voice faltered to a raspy whisper. Strength faltered me just as hope dwindled from my heart. Minutes had turned into long hours which seemed already like days had gone by with no sign of help. My eyes had clouded with fatigue, my arms powerless to grip the reins furthermore, my back was ablaze with a fierce fire, my blood spotted the jacket in numerous places, my mind struggled to think, and my legs numbed to the point I could no longer straddle the sides of the horse.

With a groaning gasp, I collapsed none too gently, landing flat on my empty stomach. The sweet smelling hay cushioned my fall, yet the pain I felt took a grand toll on my wrecked being. Fear poisoned the questions still pooled in my confused mind. There was no way I could go further on horseback nor on foot, my body was spent. To die alone was my fate. . . and death knocked on my door with a mighty fist. I no longer fought against unconciousness and allowed the darkness to carry me into a deep sleep.

XxX

The patrol had set out forth from the woods, careful to follow and inspect any hoofprints in the dried mud by the Captain's orders. But by now this time of day, it was hard to discern any prints since many horses had been through here already. So far the path was zig zagged leading them to cross back and over the vast fields. The sun was low in the sky, and it would not be long before all light was gone. The trail had been lost after an hour of searching, and the next hour had been spent trying to find it again. No trace or clue as to where this woman might be had appeared and the men were growing restless of searching for a ghost.

Captain Wilkins led the men further north east, closer to the English Camp. She was desperate for help, and the closest thing would be the camp. It seemed thus far that she was headed in that direction. But why would she do that, her getting to the camp would only mean imprisonment and execution. . . . .unless she did not know it was there to begin.

He could now smell the burning fires of the Army, she had to be near here. Leaving the men to continue looking, he headed further north toward the Santee River. A speck in the distance had caught his eye. . .it was approaching slowly. It did not take long for Wilkins to identify the object as a lone riderless horse. When she neared close enough, he grabbed the leather reins hanging from around her neck. There were packs attached to the sides of the intricate saddle, and an emblem was engraved on all the items. . .his majesty's army. An intricate cloth lay beneath the saddle, a sea of jade bordered by a scarlet stripe which had a gold elaborate pattern in it. His emerald eyes widened upon realization that this was the Sergeant's horse. Drops of crimson blood were splattered all along the backside of the saddle.

"Where is the injured rider?"

Jumping off his horse, he continued on foot towards the Santee River whence the horse had traveled. The crops surrounding him opened as a curtain before his frame. Any chance at secrecy or silent approach was gone with each snap and crack of the dry hay beneath his feet. Flying insects ate at the revealed skin of his neck and face, relishing in the sweet salty taste of his blood and sweat. The lone horse followed him at the side until she gradually seperated, tracking east instead of north. Wilkins stared, perplexed to the horse's different course. Something urged him to follow the brown mare when she stopped feet away and lowered her head. Quikening his pace, he raced to her side. His eyes broadened upon seeing the woman laying face down on her stomach dead still. For her sake, he wished her dead. He had not been with the dragoons but two days. . .yet he knew all of the cruelty the Colonel was capable. From witnessing the death of the inkeeper and his wife today in town. . .to hearing about the plantation incident that happened yesterday. He would not have mercy upon her, not an ounce of it in his cold blood.

The dark brown curls were in a matted mass around a deep wound at the back of her head. . . .the dragoon jacket was stained with blood. Her chest seemed to be unmoving, and she did not stir when he nudged her with his foot. Bending down, he rolled her over to her back to check her pulse. Her neck was like ice and slick with cool sweat despite the hot sun. With his two fingers, he felt for any signs of life. A very soft beat reached up to him, she was alive but dying. A surprising cool gust rustled the hay around him, and blew the curls out from her face. He gasped staring at that lovely pale face unblinkingly. A lump formed in his throat, and he fought against the sorrow pooling in his soul.

"Elizabeth"

He half expected her to move, to react in some sort of way to his speech. He wished for her blue lips to open and speak his name. . . but nothing was there to comfort him but silence.

The jacket she wore was spread out from her, revealing her naked chest to his ashamed eyes. Bruises and welts covered her young body, and blood stained her pearly skin. Wasting not a second more he lifted her gently up into his arms. He did not even bother with the horses but ran determinedly forward towards the roaring fires and shouting voices of the nearby camp. Sprinting against the sudden strong cold gusts, he battled against time. A tender plea was found upon his lips between rushed breaths.

"Please. . . .save her. Do not take her God. . .do not take her from me"


	8. Nightmare

(I know Gabriel has brown eyes in the movies, but I always saw him as having beautiful blue eyes like his mother Elizabeth. I still don't own any characters or the movie itself. Oh and there really is a firebird, it only exists as a folklore though in Russia. This chapter was a LOT of fun to write, so I hope all of you truly enjoy this late arrival of our one and only Colonel William Tavington. And please let me know if I'm doing him justice and if the chapter was too short, even just one review would be more than great. Have a very happy Christmas readers! I should have another chapter up in oh two-three weeks)

_**Chapter Seven**_

_**Sharp stones jabbed at my stomach and sides, waking me from the profound sleep that had taken over me. Gritty Dirt filled the cavities of my nose and dried my mouth. Squinting my eyes open, I looked up from the ground to see a haze of black smoke ascending not too far from me. Almost immediately, fierce gusts carried the acrid smell to my prone form. My weakened legs had regained their previous strength allowing me to rise and find the source of the fire. The track laid out before me was narrow and long, and at the end lay the answer to my wonder. ** "**Oh God"****Gasping, I charged forward at once. Moving with a desperate fervor towards the fire, I failed to heed the potential danger. As I moved closer, the sounds of shattering glass and crackling wood reached my ears. My eyes began to tear with the stinging acidity of the smoke and my lungs clouded with darkness. Was there anyone trapped inside? I screamed out with violent coughs in between. Running up the white washed stairs I tried to approach the closed door. The doorknob was scorched to the touch. . .the door did not budge one inch. A shattering explosion in front propelled me backwards off the porch. Scalding flames roared near my flat form on the soil, they had replaced the door that was now in ruins all around me. The fire covered the whole house, and there was no saving it nor anyone left inside. Helplessness overcame me. . .sadness consumed me. . .the loss of this house had some meaning to me. But what? As if God himself were providing me with an answer, I looked up to see a name engraved in the burnt porch rail. ** "**MARTIN"**_

_**The fire was too close for comfort, prickling the skin on my arms and face. Stumbling to my feet, I backed away from the dying house. The dark haze had spread out over the sky stretching it's wings like a black raven. The sun was blanketed by it. Fire danced powerfully before me feeding on every living thing in its destructive path. The only requiem for the Martins was the loud crackling of the burning wood and stone and the faint sound of hoof beats. . .**_

_**Hoof beats?**_

_**With a wild turn, I faced the direction from which the pounding came. A company of men bounded straight towards me, they were dressed in scarlet jackets and wore menacing green helmets crowned with black fur. The riders rode with the shadows of the smog, their taut faces grim and their rigid bodies seemed to be floating on the gusts. I stood in a stupor, expecting them to slow down as they neared the house. No, instead the horses galloped faster, recklessly driving towards my inert form. The man leading the group sat straight in his saddle as if the horse was not moving at all. His gloved hands tightly gripped the reins, they might as well have been around my constricted throat. My breath was taken from me when my eyes made contact with the coldest blue crystals I had ever beheld. There was no beauty in them, only bitter frost that sent goose bumps all along my body. The scream was caught in my throat as I realized that they weren't going to stop. I tightly squeezed my eyes shut waiting for the horsemen to stampede right through and over me. . .**_

I awoke with a start upon being dropped to the ground, the soft grass hardly cushioned my rough fall. Dazed beyond belief, it took seconds for me to remember where I was and what had transpired before. Woke up next to a dead body. Got on a horse, headed east. Looking for someone to help me. Fell off. . .passed out.

Other than that, my life was a mystery in mine mind and I had not a clue where I was or what I was doing. One thing I was sure of, falling and waking up on the ground was becoming too familiar for me. There would yet be more added bruises to the wounds I had on my back and sides. It still pained me to do anything, to even open my eyes was a strenuous task. My whole body was paralyzed in weakness and all I could do was lay motionless in wait. Sweet joy uplifted my sprits upon hearing two men speak near me. I was saved. . .

". . .alive?"

"Hardly, I found her unconscious. She needs desperate medical attention sir"

"I will determine what she needs"

I heard the earth crunching feet from me until the person stopped inches away. Feeling an intense gaze from above me, I struggled still more to open my eyes to meet my rescuer. A tiny sliver of warm light met my tiresome eyes , its source from an unknown direction. In the time my eyes needed to accustom to the brightness and darkness, I heard multiple voices carrying a distinct accent, several shouts, metal banging against metal, popping fires, horses whinnying, and rifles firing. A prominent shadow I had set my focus on slowly morphed into the figure of a man as my eyes adjusted. A tall striking yet intimidating man stood directly over me, unaware of my curious eyes resting on him. I took this man in from his feet on up. . .from the dark brown leathered boots to fine black breeches, from the scarlet wool jacket to a highly detailed chest belt which bore an intricate emblem, from the green collar bordered with gold trim to a pure white neck tie, from the strong determined chin to the handsome defined features of his face. However, the detail that captured me more than anything were his ice blue eyes. . . . 'coldest blue crystals I had ever beheld'. . .and that scarlet jacket! Remembering now that it was the same as my own. . . .as the dead man I had killed. Or that I believed I had killed. He was in the military, and this was his commander. Peace was replaced with tumult, I was in the enemy's hands. With a non too silent gasp I had turned his attention away from whomever he had been addressing at that moment. His piercing gaze turned quickly upon me, and scrutinized me from above. . .there was not an ounce of kindness pooled in its depth.

"For the murder of Sergeant Winslow. . .she will pay. It is a high degree of treachery to the crown. If she were not practically dead I would say hang her on the gallows this night, as it is. . . she will be of more benefit to me alive rather than dead. She will not have an advantage from her fatal state however, have her taken to my tent. Pick her up"

Two men, one on each side of me, pulled me up from underneath my armpits not too gently. I whimpered with the waking pain shooting from all directions of my body. They supported my weight with their arms as I could barely find the strength to stand by myself. With the little strength I mustered I lifted my head up to meet the discontentment of the man I thought had been my savior. My weary eyes had no response to his challenging stare, I had none to give. His eyes raked over my dispirited body, lingering finally over my chest with a disapproving glower. Without speaking a word, he stepped closer to me with a vicious snear on his lips. I trembled when he whispered in my ear,

"Are you afraid?"

I was shocked by this question until he leaned back to watch my response, his eyes glittering dangerously and daringly. I blinked back tears and bit my tongue, but still couldn't prevent my betraying eyes from telling the truth. I was frightened out of my mind. His smile faded into a grim line of rage, and he grabbed a hold of the buttoned jacket I wore. The two soldiers quickly released me from their hold. Pulling me harshly towards him by the lapels, he smacked me across the face with his gloved hand. If he hadn't had such a firm grip on me, I'm sure I would've been thrown to the ground by the force of his hit. My left cheek stung to no end, and tears cascaded down my horrified face. A part of me wanted to lash out and bite back, the other part just wanted to crumple up and give in to defeat and death. The latter was succeeding to take conquest over my soul.

Pulling me once again more rough than before, I readied to be hit and fastened my eyes shut. I opened my eyes in shock when he ripped the buttons off the jacket in one yank.

"You will never rank to wear those colors, never be good enough. You have soiled the colors of his majesty's dragoons with your filthy, unworthy pathetic self"

Odd, there was a stirring deep in my heart and soul. Sparks of a fire that once were came to life. Angered tears stained my cheeks, and I stood straight as I could. I stared into his wicked face with a resilient face and fought back.

"You bastard, you coward, you are no better than the dead sergeant. You are all alike, and in that you are right. I will never be dark or cruel enough to truly wear your disgusting colors of corruption and vileness"

He met my biting insult head on, smacking me once more across the left cheek and jerking the jacket off my shoulders and arms. The bitter copper taste of blood filled my mouth and rolled off my lips. I watched in horror as he threw the jacket to one of the privates. Just as soon as the sparks had returned they had vanished leaving me cold and alone. All strength was gone, and I was but a brittle shell. Although not entirely naked, I felt it.

Oh God no, not this. I knew it. I knew it before looking at his amused eyes, I knew it before looking down at my revealed chest, I knew it before hearing all the gasps and ridicules. I was exposed for all the army to see me. Nothing to cover me, not even my spirits, only small bloody shards of cloth that had once resembled a shirt. My spirit slipped into the gloom, hiding. I merely bowed my head in shame and away from the burning stares.

"Sir. . .and the physician?"

"She will not need one at this time Borden. . .she will be attending to me first before she receives anything from the Crown"

Two snickers resounded from behind me as the two men grabbed a hold of my arms once more. Only this time roughening their holds on me and taking liberty to touch my visible skin discreetly. I felt extremely sick to my stomach, more so than before. . .I could not imagine what this man had in store for me. I was his captive, and he my captor. I was in his hands to control and do with as he pleased. Oh death, come and take me away.

"Colonel Tavington. She has done nothing to deserve this humiliation. . .this treatment! The sergeant tried to rape and murder her. It was pure defense"

I looked up to see this man who contradicted the others, whose humane voice reached to me through the fog and sparked a familiarity. Concerned green orbs met my own eyes, they smiled down to me despite of the situation at hand. They tried to comfort me. His face was young and relaxed, it held a rare virtue unlike his commanding officer. It was a face I could trust, there was no evil in his eyes. If there was anyone here who could help me, it was him.

"You are a contradicting man Captain Wilkins, as already you seem to be going back on those words you told me yesterday. It is treason to kill a uniformed officer of his Majesty's Army. Treason warrants death. You are no longer with the militia, but with the Green Dragoons and you follow my command. Take her away, and see to it that she is made 'comfortable'"

This man, Wilkins, said no more of it. I closed my eyes, wishing and willing myself to wake from this bleak nightmare. . .to be at home, in the arms of a loved one. Jeers and vociferous vulgarity sounded off as they dragged me to their commander's tent. I could feel every eye resting on me as I passed rows and endless rows of white tents. One of the men who held me whispered crudely in my ear.

"The Colonel's going to have fun with you tonight love. It's not often we get a woman inside the camp. You're lucky to be under his tent tonight"

I had no clue as to what that meant, and there was no desire to find out. Opening my eyes , I saw the sun lay low in the red sky. Near night. That told me one thing was sure to come soon, rest. Whether it be through death or sleep, I was ready to hand myself in after all that had transpired. The thought of sleep and rest comforted me greatly. This man could not hold me forever, he would either kill me or give me my freedom. I had no reason to live. . .no reason to fight.

The two privates pulled me inside a large tent, and stood me against a post in the middle. I breathed in relief when they left, only to hold my breath when they returned with a long piece of rope. My arms were pulled brutally back behind the long pole. They tied my hands together to the stake so tightly the coarse cord cut painfully into my wrists. To make sure they did a good enough job, they pushed down on my shoulders to see if I would budge an inch. Wood splintered into my broken skin when my hands chafed against the post. They laughed amongst themselves victoriously when I let out a soft painful cry. Thankfully, they left it at that and left at once, leaving me alone in the silent lightless tent.

My feeble legs wobbled and struggled to stay straight. My arms cramped up almost immediately. Sore muscles became numb once more, and my migraine returned fiercely. Lifting my head up, I tried to discern anything near me that I could perhaps use to my advantage. The light had grown so dim though that all I could clearly see was the partially open flap of the tent. Men in bright red jackets passed back and forth across the open flap, some carried rifles and gear, others steaming plates of dinner. At a time like this I had not even thought on food, the will to live had left me and thus the desire to eat. I turned my mind away from my growling stomach to the camp fires outside. My eyes became entranced by the great shadows against the other walls of the tent. In due time though I had convinced myself they were large malevolent ghosts coming to haunt my person and kill me if I were to turn my back on them. So I kept a watchful eye on them, not daring to close my eyes even when they grew heavy with sleep. One of them could be the tall daunting figure of the colonel, and I quaked to think what he would do to me in the privacy of this tent. Eventually, the fires were doused out and the shadows disappeared with the darkness. Voices died down, and crickets' songs replaced the crackle of fires. My head lolled against the wooden post, banging every so often against it or against my chest. I tried to keep myself awake, but there was nothing to prevent my thoughts from becoming dreams. . .

_"**Gabriel, father catch us. We suppose be helpin the crops" **_

_**I opened my eyes to see two young children running amidst a field of hay. It was a girl and a boy, no older than six I thought. Their big eyes shimmered with such joy and innocence that only a child could possess. The boy had shoulder length blonde wavy hair, chubby cheeks as any young boy would still have, and as I neared the children it was apparent his eyes were a dark blue, almost black. The girl was completely the opposite, she had a head of thick dark brown curls which at the time were unruly and flying behind her as she ran. She was taller than her brother, but they appeared the same age. Her face was stunning, her cheeks not too round and a small nose that was not too wide graced her features. What crowned her face were her dazzling eyes, they were a radiant hazel that flashed with mischief and pride in the sunlight. **_

_"**Lizzy afraid!" **_

_"**NOT!!" **_

_"**ARE TOO!" **_

_**She grinned challengingly towards her unsuspecting brother. From the look in Gabriel's eyes, he knew what she was thinking and was running before she even finished her sentence. **_

_"**Last one to the lake, finish our chores for the day" **_

_**As fast as the wind could carry them, they ran. I followed closely behind, watching with awe and puzzlement. Who were these children? Lizzy screamed gleefully as she passed her winded brother. He pumped his short arms and little legs faster to catch up with her. **_

_"**ELIZABETH! GABRIEL!" **_

_**An adult male voice yelled from behind me and I saw a young man run out from the crops where I had just been watching the children. **_

_"**Father, Lizzy! FATHER!" **_

_"**Who. . . . . .afraid now?! Come, we almost there" **_

_**Neither him nor the children seemed to notice my presence. I did not want to intrude on them, but since they couldn't see me I continued to watch. The young man began running towards me. . .or towards the children? He had clearly seen and heard them running down to the lake. It dawned on me that she was the mirror image of her father in every way but the eyes. His face was young and free of age save a few lines creased in his forehead. He had generous good looks that started from his robust body to his handsome face. He appeared to be in his upper twenties if not a little younger. As he passed me, he slowed down and turned with a baffled look to where I stood. Stopping, his eyes scoured the area with suspicion. **_

_"**Who's there?" **_

_**I kept my lips shut thinking that someway he could hear my very breath. Being this close to him, my heart lurched when I looked deep into his light familiar blue eyes. A flicker of recognition came to my mind. . . he was of a life I no longer remembered. I knew him, yes! I knew this man. He turned from me, and resumed running towards the now no longer visible children. **_

_"**ELIZABETH, GABRIEL!"**_

_**I ran behind him, trying to catch up. **_

_'**Wait!' **_

_**He could not hear me of course, and all I could do was follow him and hope to see him reunited with Gabriel and Elizabeth. Giggles could be heard a little further down. He slowed his approach to a walk, and hid behind one of the great willow trees. I stopped just right behind him, and again he turned around looking straight through me. He whispered, **_

_"**That's odd" **_

_"**Gabriel, father won't find us. He doesn't know this our secret hide place" **_

_"**He going to be mad Lizzie" **_

_"**No, just a short swim. Come on Gabriel. . . . . . . .fine I check to see father not coming" **_

_**Little Elizabeth walked up to the large willow tree where her father was hiding. She placed a chubby hand over her eyes to shade them and looked for any sign of their father. **_

_"**See Gabriel, no. . . ."**_

_"**ARGGGGGGG!!! I'VE CAPTURED ME A FIREBIRD"**_

_**He lifted her up into the air and into his big arms, all the while making growling sounds and kissing her cheeks. Elizabeth's hellish screams turned into wild playful giggles upon realizing it was just her father. **_

_"**Daddy, I not fireburd. I your Lizzie!" **_

_"**Oh Elizabeth!" **_

_**He kissed her sweaty forehead sweetly, and lifted her into the air to look into her eyes. Such a beautiful moment between father and daughter I thought. It all of a sudden became clear to me, it was so apparent. How could I have forgotten this? This little girl was me, and the man was my. . . . my father. Tears burned my eyes and ran down my cheeks, to remember some part of myself even if it were only a small piece, it felt wonderful. To know I was not alone, that I had a family somewhere waiting for me. I looked once more to the giggling girl, her father swung her around in the air. Their wild eyes echoed each other's thoughts and emotions. He sat her down on the ground and knelt on one knee to come eye to eye level with her. **_

_"**I was hoping to catch me a firebird today. I hear their fire is the most precious thing to witness, it's inextinguishable. . .burning for eternity" **_

_**Gabriel came running up from the lake's shore, his cheeks rosy from excitement, and sat by his sister. **_

_"**Is there really a firebird, daddy??" **_

_"**Yes, they are very rare though Gabriel. Hard to find. Though little, they are stronger than the grandest eagle. And they possess a fire that doesn't burn them. The fire lives all around them, in them around their big heart, and in their eyes. If you catch their eye, just one look and you are never the same. They bring luck to whom they deem worthy, and doom to those who deserve it" **_

**_Both children gasped in fear and wonderment, clinging to their father's arms. Their heads turned wildly in search of this so called fire bird. I myself even turned around looking for this rarity. Stepping back from the shade of the tree to look up to its branches, I failed to notice a large root plainly sticking up from the ground. Losing my balance I tripped and backwards. . . backwards I fell into a large ominous pool of icy water. All the while begging my father to save me._ **

I gasped for air, coughing and gagging up water. My whole upper body was drenched in chilly ice water. Even though the tent was more than comfortably warm, I still trembled and shivered. Brown curls were plastered all about my face and prevented me from seeing too much. Warm light filled the vast quarters now, that could only mean one thing. . .

"Fall asleep did we?"


	9. Blurred Reality

I hope everyone had a lovely Christmas and New Years! I have been back from training for quite some time and it's taken me awhile to find the strength to pick up this story again. I missed it. I am engaged now and I am still on active duty. I'm also writing another story (Origins of Hook) but this story is my baby and I have been working on it since I was 16. So other than the Marines, this is my first priority. I am sorry it has taken me practically two years to update but it should be on a more regular basis now, maybe once every week or every other week. This chapter was more to get my feet wet before I submerge myself into it again.

Let me know what you think. Is there something missing? Is there any ideas that you the reader have?

**Chapter 8**

***July 14, 1778*0300 hours***

"Fall asleep did we?"

Looking downwards, I saw black leather boots standing a few inches from me. There was no doubt as to who belonged the voice. The devil himself, and here I stood captured in the pit of hell. I raised my head to see not fiery globes of red but icy cores of blue inquisitively staring at me. There were no red horns protruding from his head nor was there a pitchfork in his hand. The devil had the face of an angel. His hand felt warm and comforting as he moved the wet curls from my face. Maybe he will not hurt me after all . . . maybe I am mistaken. Immediately then, a treacherous smirk played out upon his lips as he gripped a handful of curls in that same hand.

"I do so hate it when I am ignored.'

He leaned in to my face, eye to eye, and whispered in my ear.

"There is always my preferred method of getting you to talk"

Parched lips cracked open, but I hardly had any voice to speak. My throat strangled against the dryness in my mouth.

"-----------water, please"

"What is your name?"

"----water"

"First tell me your name"

"Pl-please"

"NAME!"

I felt myself drifting out of consciousness as he pulled my hair harder back towards the pole. My eyes fluttered close. He groaned frustratingly and released me to stalk off somewhere in the tent. Another pitcher full of cold water discharged on my already damp head. Blinking, I looked back up at my captor.

"There will be plenty of time for sleep after you are hanged. Now, give me your name."

I licked the water on my lips, and once again struggled to speak.

"My name? . . . I don't remember."

Wait, I did remember . . . a dream of home . . . a dream of my father and brother . . . a dream of a happier time. Little Lizzie. . .

". . . Elizabeth"

Something sparked in Colonel Tavington; I saw it in his eyes. He looked at me closely in wonder before nodding his head in approval. He came around behind me and cut the binds which held me tightly. Unable to balance myself, I tumbled to the ground face first but was surprisingly caught by the Colonel himself. I held onto his firm chest and prayed for the strength to stand on my own. He picked up my left hand and inspected one of my fingers. He stepped away from me in observation and I wobbled on my own two feet.

"You are not married? How old are you?"

"Sir---other than my first name, there is nothing I remember. I swear to you . . . all I know is I woke up next to a dead man this morning."

He stalked to his desk to grab a flask of water and came back to offer it to me. Naturally, I nervously took the presented water from his outstretched hand. The water was warm and stale but it felt wonderful going down my sore throat. What was this unexpected kindness?

"How convenient for you to forget everything Miss Elizabeth . . . if that is even your name"

He quoted sarcastically as he went to get a blanket off of his cot at the far corner of the tent. Perplexed, I stared at his tall figure. Just a minute ago he was treating me with disregard and contempt . . . and now it was a complete turn. I swayed back and forth, feeling my legs about to buckle once more. The Colonel came to my side and supported me. With his other arm he placed the blanket around my shoulders. Shivering, I quickly covered my nakedness with the scratchy material.

"Do not mistake my actions for kindness. There is nothing I can achieve from a dead prisoner"

How unusual was this . . .his explaining himself to me like he was justifying his doings. Still, to think earlier today he had humiliated and abused me in front of his own men and now this compassion. Exhaustion and physical anguish made me not care too much about the current situation, he could be beating me to a lifeless pulp and I would not care. How was one to feel when all had numbed already? That in itself was contradictory though for I felt the velvety water soothe my throat . . . I felt the coldness slip away . . . I felt the warmth radiating off this mysterious man. . . I felt the desire to live. Should I thank him?

I decided against it.

"Sit"

Taking the flask from my hand, the Colonel motioned to a simple wooden chair by the desk. He progressed towards the desk itself and picked up some correspondence to peruse over. I stood in my place in the center of the tent, fearing to take a step forward lest I should fall again. My baby like legs were still unsure of themselves, what little strength I had left was reserved in keeping me conscious. However, I would not shame myself now and again in front of this man of war. I was proud, no matter how weak or numb, pride coursed through my veins. With one foot in front of the other, I stepped out. Gelatin like legs continued forward and even though he was not watching I held my chin up high. I clenched the blanket as if it would help keep me upright. Ever gradually, I advanced towards the chair, what was a few feet stretched to a few miles.

Suddenly, they gave out completely and I fell on my back. Immediately, he was at my side. With cloudy eyes, I watched him stoop down to pick me up. I was fading quickly. . .

"Put . . . arm . . .neck"

I was not even able to do that and so he carried me to the small Spartan cot in the unlit corner of the tent. Mumbling, I turned my head into his warm service coat and closed my eyes. He quickly laid me down and covered my trembling form with the blanket. The last thing I recall was briefly glancing up to see those azure glaciers melting with . . . concern.


	10. Honor the Fallen

**This was a necessary chapter in the story, it was hard to write. Next chapter we get right back to business with the past. Trust me, it just gets more exciting and I can't wait!!! **

**WARNING: little language below.**

**Chapter 9**

_***Present day---2100 hours---Santee Medical Center*** _

The steady beeping of the heart monitor lulled me awake from the deep slumber. I was back in a damn hospital bed . . . back in the flimsy hospital garb as well. The Fluorescent lights were dimmed in the small room but I was still able to make out the drowsy figures of my father and another man sitting next to me. Both were dead asleep with their heads tucked into their arms.

"Dad?"

Quickly, he jerked up his head from his folded arms. A red mark surrounded by slimy drool stained his tired face. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he wiped the slobber from his face with his shirt and a groan.

"Hi honey, how are you feeling?"

He reached over with a partially numb hand to caress my cheek. It was comforting to feel his loving caress on my face. Wherever my father was, I knew without a doubt I was safe.

"Fine I think . . . the last thing I remember was blacking out in the hospital lobby which would explain why I'm still here"

"Lizzie, you were pretty feverish and for the past hours you've been mumbling incoherently. We're all worried about you . . . including this boy next to me"

Looking more closely to the still sleeping figure, I took in his military blondish hair and the tattoo "EM" peeking out barely from his olive crew t shirt. I looked down at the tattoo on my own arm, the initials "PM" was there . . . Patrick! He was asleep right by my foot, perfect location for me to kick him awake. With a jolt, he stood up defensively into a warrior stance. My father and I just couldn't help cracking up at the humorous sight of an Army Ranger Officer panicking. Dropping his defenses, Patrick sternly looked down at me and dad; his eyes said everything.

"Nice welcome home I get! So this is what I get for traveling over 3,000 miles to see my very alive sister. I thought you said she was sick and weak in bed dad . . ."

"You know your sister son, she's full of surprises even in the most dire of situations. She is a Martin after all"

His dour frown immediately transformed into his charming smile and his blue eyes sparkled with happiness. Without another thought, he rushed to the other side of the bed to give me a bear hug.

"I missed you sis"

And indeed I had missed him too, the last time we had seen each other was over a year ago at his Citadel graduation and commissioning for the US Army. In fact, that had been the last time the whole family had been together. Shortly after he had completed Army training, he was sent over with the Rangers to Iraq.

"What are you doing here? What about your tour of duty overseas"

"Well dad here sent an emergency message over the Red Cross saying you had been attacked and were mortally wounded. It didn't get to me till two days ago. My squad was about to go out on a mission when my command took me out and sent me back home for a week"

Admonishingly I glared down my father; this was in no way necessary. Of course, he returned the stare and sighed.

"Elizabeth, when you first got here the doctors had no hope for you. It's a miracle how well you've recovered in such a short time. But now with today's fainting act, I don't know when they'll release you"

I groaned frustratingly while running a hand through my hair and straightening up in bed. I was ready to go home this morning and I'm ready to go home now. Despite the passing out, I actually got a decent amount of sleep and felt well rested for the first time in weeks.

"I'm glad you're here Patrick, truly I am. I just wish they were under different circumstances. You know how dad likes to exaggerate and compared to the guy who did this to me, I'm doing much better . . . not even close to being six feet underground. Either way though, it's good to have you back home bro. Have you been by anywhere else? I'm sure there's some old girlfriends that would love to see you again with your new spiffy uniform"

Suddenly, Patrick's eyes dimmed and he sat on the bed. Taking my hand in his, he murmured,

"Liz, I'm sorry about James"

_I had forgotten about James Wilkins, my friend and possibly soon to be husband. _With all the events of the past week I had never thought to ask my father about him and oddly enough my father had not even bothered to tell me. I wondered what happened to him that night, and with the look on Patrick's face it did not look well.

"Patrick . . . not now"

My father stared angrily at Patrick; his eyes were solemn as well. My father knew and hadn't told me . . . I should've known.

"You haven't told her dad? Are you serious?! It's been days since it happened! When were you going to tell her . . . when she read it in the paper or saw it on television?"

"Dad, what is he talking about?"

"Honey, I didn't want to tell you with everything you had gone through. I thought it best to wait till you were out of the hospital and back home. I'm sorry. I just wanted to protect you."

"Protect me from what???"

"Elizabeth, James is dead. His funeral is tomorrow"

_NO! No, no, no, no, no, no, it can't be . . . it can't be. I won't let it be. _Bitter tears stung my eyes and rolled down my cold cheeks_. I didn't even get to say goodbye. _A cold sword plunged itself into my warm heart, sending daggers to every corner. The coldness spread to my soul and consumed my mind. I could hardly feel the knot in my throat as I heaved out,

"How?"

There was no response, and I looked up from my tear soaked hands to see my father looking away and my brother suppressing tears.

"HOW?!! ANSWER ME!!"

With a tear in his eye, my brother spoke softly.

"He died the day after your attack Lizzie. He was severely wounded with two bullet wounds"

Anger flustered in my heart and heated the plunged sword_. Please God, don't let it be true. _My father took my other hand.

"Lizzie, he was the one who found you next to the river. The man who attempted to rape you must have had a partner waiting by their car. I can only guess that when he saw James going into the park, he followed him to make sure he wouldn't find you and his partner. When James found you, the partner must have attacked out of rage and he shot James twice in the chest. James somehow took the pistol from the man, and shot him in the head. I don't know how he did it Lizzie . . . how with his wounds he was able to carry you to his car and drive to the hospital. I'm sure he knew that with any time wasted calling an ambulance, you or he could've died. He called me on the way here; I kept him conscious and focused so he wouldn't black out. Don't you see Lizzie? He was the one who saved you. He was the one who brought you here to the hospital. He was the one who called me that day. Without him, you would have died."

_No . . . because of me he died. Because of me, he'll never be a husband or a father. Because of me, he'll never grow old and live to see his grandchildren. Because of me, his parents don't have a son. Because of me . . . because of me. _

"Please get out"

My heart and soul shuddered with wrath, and I shook in vehemence of what I've done. Both my hands turned into fists, and my tear stained face morphed into something ugly. When neither my brother or father moved, I punched the bed and cried out,

"Get the fuck out of my room!! I don't want anyone here!! JUST GET OUT"

Without further delay, they left the room in a flash slamming the door behind them. As I faded out, I heard doctors and nurses arguing with my family outside. _I still can't believe he's dead . . . if only my anger could dull this cruel pain. _With a painful realization, I knew that I did love him. Even if it was just in a brother/sister way, _I did love James Robert Wilkins._ _And now he was gone, forever from my life, never to return again. _A memory flashed to the forefront of my mind,

_**August 6, 1990, it was the day of my mother's funeral. My father had insisted on her being buried in the Martin family plot on the plantation. The whole town of Santee had shown up to mourn the wife and mother of this new family in town. All of the businesses were closed that day in reverence. I stood next to my twin brother and solemn father in front of her wooden casket. My six year old mind already knew the concept of death . . . father had told Patrick and I she had gone to a better place . . . that she was never coming back home from the hospital. In my mind, I was angry at her for leaving us. Why would she want to go someplace better when she loved us? Wasn't being with Patrick and me better enough? **_

_**The local priest recited a sermon and let my father say a couple of words. I hardly remember much about that gloomy day, but one ray of sunshine that brightened up the gloom. All of the mourners had left to go inside the house and Patrick had gone with father. I was left outside watching the men as they closed up the grave. With every toss of dirt, my heart broke a little more. The top of my laced black dress was soaked with my tears. **_

"_**Mommy, I need you . . . please don't go" **_

_**I decided to plead once more before she was buried forever. **_

"_**Please . . . please don't go mommy" **_

_**All of a sudden, a big warm hand tenderly held my little hand making me gasp and think for one second my prayer had come true until I looked up to see an older boy. He had curly brown hair and twinkling green eyes, and even with a sad look upon his face he was still beautiful. He squeezed my hand and looked down at me, **_

"_**My mom told me she's in heaven becoming an angel" **_

"_**An angle?" **_

_**I mispronounced with my childish voice. He looked up towards the sky and pointed upwards. **_

"_**God chose her to become an angel and so she had to leave. But she's still here watching over you and at night, you can see her star shining in the sky." **_

"_**Think so?" **_

"_**I know so." **_

"_**Thank you . . ." **_

"_**James" **_

"_**My name is Elizabeth" **_

_**I said with a chubby tear rolling down my grief stricken face. **_

"_**I miss my mommy James. Why can't I go with her?" **_

_**Trustingly and without hesitation I confided in him and with that he bent down on the ground and took me into his long arms, hugging me tightly. **_

"_**I don't know Elizabeth; maybe it's not your time to become an angel yet . . ." **_

_**I leaned back slightly to see a wondrous smile on his face that made everything brighten up instantly. With a finger, he caught a tear falling off my face and with his sleeve he wiped the tears away. At that exact moment, I knew everything would be okay . . . I don't know how I knew but with that smile before me I did. **_

That sweet little boy had helped me bury my mother that harsh August day. He had helped me . . . all through life. And how did I repay him? I killed him. . .

Now there was no one to help me bury James Robert Wilkins . . . my lifelong friend and brother. With that thought, I cried myself to gray oblivion.

****_**The following day----0800 hours----Wilkins Mansion******_

The whole estate of the Wilkins family was somber and mournful as were all the persons on property. American flags at the entrance and in the backyard were set at half staff in commemoration of James Robert Wilkins. The family had a mausoleum that was centuries old in the back of the house where all previous ancestors had been buried ever since the American Revolutionary War. James would be added to those ancestors today.

The funeral procession had made its way through the entire town from the funeral home on horse and carriage. An American flag was draped over the coffin and Marines marched alongside in reverence. I stood with my father and brother, walking right behind the Wilkins. The hospital had discharged me this morning against their wishes but I signed some papers releasing them of any obligation. My father and brother made no argument knowing how much today meant to me AND my brother. James was a member of our family, not only a best friend but a big brother to Patrick. My brother and I both wore our military dress blues in respect of the situation. Everyone else was in solemn black.

Mrs. Wilkins was gone completely, the rest of the world did not exist to her only the lost son inside that cold coffin. I could hear her gentle sobs from behind and it was hard to keep myself from going up to her in comfort. Mr. Wilkins walked stoically next to her, eyes straight ahead on his son's coffin . . . not a tear. He held his wife's arm in his and they went hand in hand.

We entered the pristine iron gates to the Wilkins manor and followed the road to the back property. The townspeople behind me were crying . . . everyone was mourning this son of Santee. I couldn't cry today though, no I wouldn't. I had cried myself to sleep last night and I had cried in my dreams. Not today, I had to be strong for his mother.

We arrived at the graveyard, and the Marines unloaded his casket from the carriage. They carried it to the marbled coffin and set it down inside.

"Right Face. Forward March"

All of the Marines except for three marched off. The officer stood to the side while the sergeant and lance corporal prepared the flag. Gently, they bent down and lifted the flag up from the casket. From the distance another Marine began playing taps** while the flag was being folded. Once they were done, each took their turn saluting it before handing it off to the officer. Once the grave song was done playing, a column of Marines prepared their rifles to fire. The officer approached Mrs. Wilkins to give her the flag and I watched in sadness as she collapsed over the flag in tears. Mr. Wilkins tried to hold her and comfort her but she jumped forward off her chair to the coffin and laid her face on top crying for her son to come back. No mother should have to bury her child. With each shot that went off a strangled moan would come from her mouth. On the third and final rifle salute, Mr. Wilkins soothingly went to her and escorted her back to her chair whilst holding her ever so tightly.

After the family shared some words and the priest said a prayer, I watched in remorse as they closed the coffin over James Wilkins casket. Slowly and carefully, they lowered him down. All that could be heard was the coffin scratching against the earth ever so slightly. I was glad I did not get to see his body before they closed the casket up. I was glad I did not have to see his pale face or his lifeless corpse. I was glad.

After the funeral, the Wilkins hosted a small dinner in honor of James. It was during this time that I found myself walking outside under the stars at night and I ended up at James' freshly buried grave. His tombstone was simple yet elegant,

"Here lies a Son of America

Staff Sergeant James Robert Wilkins

November 13, 1981 – July 14, 2006

United States Marine Corps "

I simply could not hold the tears back any longer. They flowed down in a steady stream as I spoke softly to him.

"James . . . . . . ."

"He loved you more than anything, you know"

Gasping, I looked behind me to see the tear stricken face of his mother. I went to wipe my eyes but she stopped me.

"No please don't. It's good to know that my son was loved dearly not only by his family. You may not know but he told me of what he was going to do that night. He came to me that morning quite excited . . . just as he would when he was a little boy."

She stifled back a sob and I went to envelope her with my arms, caressing her back ever so tenderly. Mrs. Wilkins reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out a box attached to a letter.

" . . . . Before he died, he told me to give this to you. He said you would understand. . . Elizabeth I know he died saving you. He never regretted it not once in his last hours and on his death bed his last concern was you and your safety. We don't blame you for his death . . . and neither should you. Promise me you will leave it here."

I looked into her watered eyes with a puzzled expression.

"Leave your bitterness behind. James would've wanted it. He made his decision and it was to love you. Don't disrespect him by carrying this weight all your life"

She kissed me on the cheek,

"We must all learn to carry on Lizzie and leave the dead behind"

With that she left me by his grave alone with the stars . . . stars. I remembered those words he had spoken to me the first time we had met.

"Are you up there James?"

It must have been a trickery of my eyes for I thought I saw a bright star shimmer in response to my question. Either way it comforted me.

Kneeling down on the fresh soil, I braced myself to open up the letter he had written to me in his last hours. Deep breath . . . deep breath . . . steady your heartbeat.

_My dear Lizzie, (that will always be your name to me) _

_I'm not good with words so this will be short. I'm sorry I must say goodbye in a letter, it appears the good Lord needs me as his angel now so I don't have much time. At this time, you are a couple doors down from me in the same critical ward. I have been praying for your recuperation . . . dear God, to not let you die. I would give my life a thousand times over just so that you may live. I'm sorry I was too late to rescue you . . . I'm sorry I couldn't be there sooner. But you are safe now, and I feel as if I've done my life's purpose in saving you. I know you may never love me as I love you, but that doesn't cause regret or anger in me. For I loved you Lizzie more than you can comprehend, you were the sun to my day and my moon at night. This is why I could never bring myself to ask you to marry me. You deserve a love that I speak of . . . a love that consumes your heart's wishes and desires. I hope you will find it one day. And as for myself, I am ready to greet death and I have been ready for some time. It's an odd feeling that I cannot explain, it's as if God places everything at peace within your soul to make all of it easier to accept . . . to not be afraid anymore. _

_I debated having my mom give you this box but I decided for it anyways . . . let it be a reminder of the love we shared. Let it be a reminder of our friendship. I love you Elizabeth Katie Martin. Remember I am just a star away, and am always watching over you. _

_Your Friend and Brother, _

_James Robert Wilkins_

Sniffling, I deftly opened the jewelry box to discover a silver necklace inside. On the chain was a gleaming star full of little diamonds. It was his star . . . and I would forever carry it close to my heart.

_****taps is a military song played in honor of the fallen dead at funerals** **_


	11. Salvation

_Hello Readers. BIG gracious thanks to all the peeps still reading this story. I promise you the journey gets better. It's been a long drawn out start (which I'm on working on reducing) but it's getting meatier. About the necklace, I thought it more proper that Benjamin give it to his daughter instead of Ann. I will do my best to update faster this time but the Marines are keeping me busy. Please let me know what you think so far. Am I doing Tavington justice at all? Do I need to change anything or work on something? Please let me hear all of your critique. I graciously thank you again my faithful readers. _

_Your obedient servant, _

_DG_

_P.S. Sorry about the height mistake, Elizabeth is supposed to be 5'7, NOT 5'9 lol that would be well over pretty tall for a woman :P . Mistake corrected. _

_**Chapter Ten**_

_Keep running. Frantically moving through a sea of bloody fields, I could not stop to catch my breath. The dark sky lit up brilliantly with exploding suns. I suddenly wished I had not the eyes to see the hellish scene before me. Arms reached out to me in desperation, young men moaned for help somewhere beneath my feet. I did my best not to step on the strangled bodies, some alive and others dead . . . they were all around. The branches of the trees were the distorted limbs of men. Blood flowed in with the mud and my naked feet and legs were covered in both. A chorus reached my ear . . . a song of men's' cries, explosions, and firing muskets. The smell of death permeated my senses and I could feel its presence closing in on me. Bile filled my mouth, and my eyes stung with the sulfur from all the gun powder in the air . . . but I kept running towards someone. To whom I did not know but that did not stop me. _

_The ground beneath me shook as the explosions grew nearer. I ran faster through the smoke and fires that tried to snare me. With coughs and gasps for air, I closed my eyes tightly against the blinding smog and tried to feel my way out. However with a quick blink of my eye, everything faded unveiling a still form standing not too far in front of me. All grew silent and only out of my peripheral vision could I see the flashes of the cannons and muskets. Paralyzed from fear, without movement I floated forward ever so slowly towards the man. As I got closer, he stretched out his hand to me beckoning me to him. With a flash of light, I saw his bright red jacket . . . British soldier? His lips cracked open, _

"_Elizabeth"_

_In a fluid steady stream, blood poured from the corners of his mouth down his chin and unto his military coat. That is when I noticed that his jacket was not red, not naturally . . . his whole upper body was drenched in blood. Reaching out to me he gurgled, _

"_Sa-save"_

_I screamed in horror when the puddle of blood at his feet ignited in a blaze causing his whole body to go in flames. Run. I was running again as far and fast as my feet would take me from his blasting cries. . . . BOOOOOOOOMMMM! _

Awake . . . Crashes of steel and splintered wood startled me from the hellish nightmare. Men were shouting orders about killing the Ghost and charging the forest. I could hear the doctors yelling to get the wounded behind the impact area. Sweat burned my eyes as I opened them. It was hardly dawn yet, the light of the sun hardly lit up the inside of the small tent but it was enough to see that half of it was caved in on the other side. Most likely the center beam had snapped under the weight of a nearby blast. I then heard a curious sound, whistling . . .

"INCOMING!"

The explosion landed feet from the tent, shaking the unstable remaining three and a half beams and rocking me from the cot in which I was laid. I cringed as my bandaged ribs took the hard hit. My ears rang and all was blurred before me on the ground. I lay still in wait for another blast from above but none came. Muskets fired off in the distance and the explosions grew further apart but all was quiet around the tent save for a few men that were running towards the battle. I knew I needed to get out of this encampment and this could be one and only chance. I thanked whoever this Ghost was for my chance at freedom.

Much time had passed since that strange night in the Colonel's tent. Just how much time it was, I had no clue. By the look and feel of my wounds, it had to be a few weeks at the very least. Nightmares had plagued me endlessly and unfortunately they are all I recall from that time. I had woken up sporadically now and then only to a nurse or doctor being present. I did faintly remember being taken to medical by the colonel himself. It had to have been the second morning I had been in camp. I had awakened briefly to look up to see the stern clean shaven face of the colonel. It was dawn and I could never forget how cold I felt when I saw daggers of ice in his eyes, when he looked down at me . . . those daggers then had melted so quickly with the warm rays of the rising sun reflecting in his eyes . . . perhaps that was another dream.

Even if I knew nothing, one thing was certain . . . I felt like a new woman. My wounds were healing quite well, and my spirit was refortified and strong enough to get me the hell out of the enemy's cursed camp. I only wore a loose fitting night gown but that would have to do for my escape since clearly everything else was underneath the other side of the tent. I slipped out from underneath the side of the dirtied white canvas and took a quick peek around to make sure no one was in sight. Without further delay, I took off to the edge of camp. It was an absolute ghost town with fires still burning and breakfasts strewn about them. Cots were still out, and clothes were all about the place. Some tents were in a blaze, and others were collapsed in a dirty, muddy heap. I headed north towards the other side of the forest and opposite the ensuing battle.

_*CRASH* _

With a startle, I looked to my left down the row of smoldering tents to see a man in blue uniform rapidly coming my way. He was not looking in my direction and before he could, I quickly ducked into the nearest tent to hide. Deciding wisely to stay put for a couple minutes lest the soldier be outside if I decided to step out too soon. I looked around the small quarter which was indeed more Spartan than the Colonels but larger. There were cots lined on one side and trunks with basins on the other. In the middle was a post used to hang up uniforms, and I took liberty to grab one of the trousers and the smallest set of boots. The trousers fit snugly enough with the nightgown tucked in and the boots were a little too spacious but they would have to do. Not wanting to humor the fates, I opted against taking a scarlet jacket. I grabbed some black cord that was lying on top of one of the trunks and quickly threw my greasy tangled tresses back into a tail. I peeked out the back of the tent, searching for any more soldiers that may be in sight. All was clear, and with a full sprint I continued towards the natural concealment of the woods. Recklessly as I got closer to safety I stopped checking for any dangers. My sides began contracting in pain, and my out of shape lungs could hardly keep up with my fast burning legs. Sweat ran down my face and the boots chafed severely against my unclothed feet.

'Almost there'

When I reached the edge of the woods, I couldn't stop. Momentum kept me going, and I ran further and deeper into safety. Tears blended in with my sweat when I realized that there was no place for me to go. Exhaustion just as soon hit me and the adrenaline rush died off. I hugged a nearby large oak tree, wrapping my arms around it and resting my head on its cold wood. I felt the desperate urge to vomit . . .

"Hands on your head . . . "

I hesitated, thinking that if I ran it might be better for me to be shot in the back rather than having to be dragged right back into that hell hole.

"Do it! And on your knees!"

Releasing the tree, I slowly lifted up my arms and turned around to meet my aggressor. A surprising sight greeted me, and from the look in his eyes it appeared he too was astonished. The young man had wavy blonde hair tied back, and he wore a light blue jacket with white trousers. He wore two satchels across his chest and had a ready rifle aimed straight at me. He had bright friendly blue eyes that sparkled with recognition when I looked into them.

"Lizzy?"

Slowly he brought down the weapon and stepped towards me. I inquisitively looked him over and tried to think of how I knew this man since it was apparent he knew me. He saw the question in my eyes and stepped closer.

"Do you not know who I am?"

He took one of my hands and brought it up to his face to touch his cheek.

"Do you not remember your twin brother?"

Immediately, it hit me . . . that hair, those eyes of mischief, that face which had considerably slimmed down but still had the same features of the little boy. Dropping all uncertainty and propriety, I fell forward into his arms. Tears reignited and I openly sobbed before him.

"GABRIEL!"

His arms opened to hug me warmly and tightly.

"What has happened to you Lizzy? You look like you have gone through hell and back. . ."

"Please help me Gabriel, I'm in trouble. I can't remember anything save for a few little things. There is so much I need to ask and tell you but there is so little time. The colonel will be sending men to search for me soon. . ."

"What colonel?"

"I believe his name is Colonel Tavington."

His hold on me tightened and I could feel the fury radiating from deep in him. He looked down at me with sadness and anger in his eyes,

"I will not let him hurt another of my family. Come let us hurry. . ."

"What do you mean . . . another? Gabriel?"

Looking away from me and around the surrounding area, he whispered,

"Father should be the one to tell you Lizzy. Now come, someone is approaching. . ."

And indeed, I soon heard the crunch of leaves and fallen branches and it was not too far from our position. He took my hand and once again I was off running through the woods but this time it was towards the fray. It was obvious that he was now the best runner of us both, and I found it hard to keep up with his pace.

"Aunt Charlotte told us of your disappearance when we arrived at her plantation. That was a week ago. We have been scouring the woods for you ever since"

"We?" I asked breathily.

"Father, I, and the rest of the militia have been training in the Santee Woods the past week. Father was convinced you were dead Lizzie . . . but I just knew you had to be alive"

We stopped suddenly and crouched down next to a mossy tree stump. Despite the cool morning breeze and shade the large oaks provided, I was still in a sweaty heat. I wiped the perspiration from my brow, and tried to slow down my breathing. Looking over at Gabriel, I noticed with an odd competitive envy that he was not even breaking a sweat nor breathing hard. I could see flashes of red and light colored jackets in between the trees, the battle was just ahead and it was no longer the blasts of muskets or cannons but the frigid clashes of steel against steel and flesh.

"Are we to wait here brother?"

"No, but I'm afraid it won't be safe if we go any further. You've lost a bit of your speed sis."

He winked mischievously over at me with a not too suppressed grin.

"It would be safer if you wait here while I go get us a horse . . ."

Standing up, I crossed my arms over my chest.

"No Gabriel. I've been lost for what feels years and now that I have some sort of direction there is no way that I am going to let you leave me here alone. I never want to lose sight again. . ."

He stood up with me and took me in his arms, smoothing a hand over my back.

"Shhh, don't worry Lizzie . . . I've always looked out for you and I promise you that will never change. We'll find a way around"

As we stealthily navigated our way around the dying scrimmage, my heart could not help but leap for the stars of hope and joy. The prospect of meeting my father and seeing my whole family . . . of learning who I was excited me beyond belief.

"From the sounds of it, father has called the retreat. We need to hurry!"

Surely enough, as we picked up our pace again I noticed men running alongside and in front of us. They were an odd sort of fellows; one next to me took off his hat in a gentlemanly manner and bowed his head in respect,

"Good Mawnin' tho you Miss Marthin"

He only had a few wispy strands of hair at the top of his head and when he smiled, all of his teeth save for two were gone giving him quite a comical look. Putting the hat back on his head, he continued running forward towards the group of horses just ahead.

"Good Morning to you too"

I yelled back as we followed closely behind.

"That's Wispy Wallace, I'm sure you can see why we call him th-thath."

Before I could laugh in reply, a musket ball whizzed right past my ear into the tree ahead thoughtlessly making me stop in my tracks to turn and look at my attacker and sure enough standing there in his full uniformed glory was non-other but. . .

_Colonel Tavington _

Gasping, I felt myself unable to move, stuck in time and space . . . why did I feel drawn to the man like a ship being pulled into a storm. His countenance was calm in every manner and his tall form steadily approached me whilst he reloaded his pistol. Every movement was deliberate and methodical, heightening the tension between us. A cool smirk distorted his handsome face, and his butcher eyes glimmered with the satisfaction of a cold hunter.

"Now really, how rude of you not to thank your host for his hospitality before you leave."

He stopped a couple feet from my innate form, and clucked his tongue at me. The humor shortly washed away from his face, and his eyes formed two small slits of irritation as he looked somewhere just beyond me. Colonel Tavington cocked back the lever of his pistol and raised it, pointing it straight at me. At my back, I heard another rifle being made ready.

"Elizabeth . . . get behind me, now!"

Keeping my eyes on the Colonel, I stepped back behind the man who had said the words, momentarily looking up to see the attractive young man from my dream . . . albeit older.

_Father_

Standing right next to him was Gabriel, and they defensively stood in front of me blocking off any chance Tavington had getting to me and even more now that I heard more rifles cocking behind me. I felt like a baby being guarded by the whole herd . . . as I glanced around, I noticed that I was encircled by a whole group of country men and boys with rifles aimed at the man who wished to harm me. That man who was now visibly furious, I could see his strong jaw tighten and his body shook with repressed anger before finally letting that cool smirk darken his face again.

"You - ah yes, I almost forgot . . . that farm and that stupid little boy. Did he die?"

Looking up to father's face, I noticed his eye twitch and the finger on his trigger flinch. Gabriel too was looking at father who was still keeping dead eye contact with the villain.

"So you are this supposed ghost, are you? You can't even keep control of your own family . . . one down; let's see how many more I can kill before this war is over."

He then aimed his pistol at Gabriel's head and bravely stepped forward. Immediately, father took out a second pistol with his left hand and cocked it, aiming it straight at the devil's head. Colonel Tavington then looked between my brother and father to me, and smiled, flashing his pearly whites.

"And this must be your whore of a daughter as well, hmm? Let me tell you how she begged for her life . . ."

Flashes of red were approaching through the trees behind Tavington and I'm sure father and Gabriel saw as well as their eyes were drawn away from their target. In response, the dragoon officer foolishly glanced behind him . . . all we needed was a second.

"FIRE!"

I suddenly wished I had covered my ears as a progression of several shots rang out all around me but it all happened so quickly. Before I could even register what was happening, father and Gabriel were pulling me through the thicket towards the clearing. Shots were being fired behind us, but the soldiers were too far behind to make any close impact. I could see just ahead to the clearing where a group of horses awaited yet something pulled at my heart . . . I still felt the uncontrollable urge to look behind me . . . to look at the flames I had just crossed. I shook it off, and decided against it lest I see the devil riding on our very heels. Father hitched me up on his horse and hoisted himself up right behind me. All the men followed suit and we wasted no time riding hard east. Where we were going, I had no idea and neither did I care . . .

Father and I exchanged neither words nor looks on our ride together. Gabriel rode up at several times to give me some water and food seeing that I was getting pale. At another point during the ride, I had gently squeezed father's hand and snuggled back into him which in return got me a warm protective arm across the stomach. We never stopped, not once. Morning turned to midday and midday turned to afternoon. Time dragged on, and with the merciless sun beating down on us I found it hard to stay awake. The day had been rough on my still healing body, and it was begging for relief. The harmonious beat of the hooves must have lulled me to sleep when I heard,

"Whoa, steady girl."

I gradually blinked my eyes open to see a blood red sun setting behind a grand house in the distance. The militia men gathered round our horse and waited for word from father. A few of the boys were slouching in their saddles, leaning forward with exhaustion written on their young faces. Other than that, the men were ready for any orders their leader should give.

"We have had a good successful week of training, men. Go home; spend time with your families. Four days furlough, we will meet back up at the old Spanish mission. Our real work will begin then so ready yourselves."

The men needed no further orders and they were off in a blaze, desperate to get home to their wives and children . . . or in some men's case, their beer. Gabriel walked up next to us with the reins in his hand. Father descended from the horse and put his arms up to help me get off.

"Really Father, you act as if I've never properly dismounted a horse before"

Already that stubborn pride was settling back in, and I welcomed it gladly. I dismounted on the opposite side and was quite glad to be having Gabriel standing there when my legs gave out right away, clearly asleep from the hour's long ride. Gabriel held me up as feeling came back into the lower half of my body as father looked over at me and grinned.

"Properly, huh?"

Not being able to hold myself back any longer, I tested my legs out before running over and tackling my father with a big hug.

"I missed you"

"I thought I lost you firebird."

He kissed me on the forehead and wrapped his arm around me as we walked down the dirt road towards the grand estate.

"He's a hard man to convince once he has his mind set on something", Gabriel retorted.

"He wasn't the only one Gabriel . . . I was almost ready to give up. I'm glad I didn't"

"What happened to you Lizzy?", Gabriel asked with concern.

"FATHER!"

"GABRIEL!"

A small group of four children was running down the road from the house towards us leaving a big cloud of dust in their little feet's wake.

"Perhaps it is best we discuss this later when we are alone. There is much that needs to be said . . . at the right time"

Father gave me another kiss on the forehead before running forward to greet the screaming overjoyed children. Gabriel filled father's place by my side and put a hand on my arm.

"Our brothers and sisters have been through more than their hearts and minds can take. Thomas is still a sensitive matter for all . . . "

"Thomas? I don't remember . . ."

We came to a stop suddenly and Gabriel's somber blues met my confused hazels.

"When is your birth date?"

"I don't know"

"What are the names of our brothers and sisters?"

"I don't know"

"What was our mother's name?"

"I don't know"

"What is your full name?"

"Elizabeth . . . Martin"

"Your middle name is Katherine; you were named after our mother, Elizabeth Putnam Martin. We are twin siblings born on 5th May 1758 at the Santee Farm just right off the river. It was our mother and father's marriage home; it was where Thomas, Nathan, Margaret, Samuel, William, and Susan were born"

"Was Gabriel?"

"LIZZY!"

Just then, a squeal of innocent giggles and childish laughter headed over my way. I almost panicked when I saw that big cloud of dust headed in my direction but it quickly melted away when I took in their bright beautiful smiles shining up at me. I sank to my knees and feeling no more stranger, took each and every child into my arms. Their laughter infected every crevice of my heart and soul and healed the wounds which had been festering the past week. I wept in utter happiness upon feeling their loving hugs and kisses. Gabriel and father laughed watching me fall backwards with all the affection.

"We missed you Lizzy! We love you Lizzy! Don't leave us ever again Lizzy!"

"And I missed y'all so much more!"

One of the older looking boys piped up curiously, "Where have you been? There's so much that has happened . . . I got to fire an actual real rifle like Gabriel"

Father started coughing and clapping his hands, "Okay children, your sister is tired and needs some rest. How about you all run ahead and help Aunt Charlotte get a room prepared for Elizabeth?"

Before get was out of his mouth, they were off racing each other towards the house in a flurry of dust and giggles. Father ran a hand through his hair as he shook his head.

"Susan must be inside with your Aunt. She hasn't been the same since . . . the events of the past few weeks have been particularly hard on her"

Once again they saw the inquisitive look in my eyes as we walked again down to the white washed estate.

". . . We will explain everything when you are sitting down honey"

I accepted that as an answer for now, but there was many unrequited questions floating back and forth in my head. Questions which shouldn't go avoided with the memory loss I had apparently suffered.

The estate was beautifully landscaped with weeping willows and large oak trees lining the road all the way up to the house. Bushes of exotic flowers and greens framed the large two story home which had green shutters and tall white pillars framing the front doorway. A beautiful young woman dressed in a pale yellow dress waited for us on the steps. Her pale green eyes twinkled with mirth and she gently waved her hand in welcoming us.

"Elizabeth . . . "

"Yes?"

"I said nothing"

"Neither did I, you really do need your sleep sister. It's good to see you again Aunt Charlotte"

He went up to hug and kiss her on the cheek before going inside the manor.

"Elizabeth . . ."

Father was up on the porch awkwardly speaking with Aunt Charlotte and it looked like he was deciding on whether he should hug her or not. I desperately turned around to look for that someone who was whispering my name. There was no one there, but it felt as if someone was right behind me . . . cradling me with his voice.

"ELIZABETH!"

My father's call broke me out of my trance, and I turned to look at him.

"Stop daydreaming and come say hello to your aunt"

I walked up the steps to hug my aunt and kiss her on the cheek. Lady like manners aside, she enveloped me in a big tight embrace and with tears in her eyes she almost whispered.

"Elizabeth, I've been so worried. When Putnam came back alone, I knew something had to be wrong and then when your father turned up later that night. Well, let's just say we feared the worst. Putnam will be glad to see you my dear, she is in the stables and has been well taken care of. I'm sure you will want to go there first and check on her before anything"

Smiling halfheartedly I replied, "A bath has been long overdue Aunt and I feel the need to get out of these clothes"

She gave me a once over before she smartly but politely remarked, "Ah yes, let us get you into something much more fitting for a young lady. Your room is still made up on the lower level, and I will have Marcus and Miriam draw you a bath there shortly"

"Thank you for your kindness Aunt Charlotte."

I kissed father on the cheek before stepping inside a beautifully decorated entry way. The walls were a pale color of the sea with crown molding all around the trim. An empty parlor sat to the left and to the right was an adequate library with books piled high to the ceiling. An old grandfather clock to my left struck the hour bells of 7 o' clock. It was a vivacious home, alive with the sounds and smells of upcoming supper.

"Good Evenin' Miss"

A young black boy was lighting the candelabras on the wall, and smiled to me genially as he stepped around me. I smiled back at him before being captivated by the paintings hanging on the wall; most of them were biblical scenes. A particular one caught my eye opposite the staircase and I walked forward to scrutinize it. It was a view of the angel Lucifer seducing and deceiving God's holy virgin. Lucifer was portrayed as the most beautiful and handsome with long cascading gold hair and pale skin. The young glowing maiden being mislead was looking to the closed heavens with her arms outstretched towards God, asking for guidance and help yet her eyes stayed on the dark angel for she was drawn to him. He had his hand outstretched to her, offering her his love yet the smile on his face told of deceit and false promises. At her feet, fiery arms reached up to her through the earth grabbing hold to her and pulling her ever so slowly to her damnation. She looked oblivious to it with her trusting eyes ever steady on the demon's handsome face. His eyes - those cold calculating blue eyes betrayed him and if she were only to look deep in them she would see his scheme . . . those same entrancing eyes.

"It was a gift to my father from the Duke of Montagu. It has hung in this very spot ever since the day my father had it put up to remind my sisters and me of the consequences of sin. It can be quite frightening to a seven year old. I just have never found it in myself to take it down."

"It's mesmerizing . . ." I whispered to myself.

"What was that?"

"Oh it's just that it'd be a shame if you took it down, such a provocative painting"

"Yes, I too find myself mesmerized by it as well, always have"

She discreetly winked over at me before walking away towards the dining room.

"Your bath should be all ready"

Taking one last look at the painting, I turned away to walk behind Aunt Charlotte hoping she was taking me to my room seeing as I had no idea where anything was in this home.

"I haven't moved anything since you left dear, so everything is the same in your room. Your clothes and articles are still in the bureau. . . "

There was a long narrow hallway behind the staircase next to the dining room. Lamps were already lit on the moss green colored walls. We passed several doors before arriving at the last one on the left.

"I still don't know why you insist on staying on the bottom floor away from the main part of the home"

Walking into the lavishly appointed room, I knew why I had chosen to have it that way. There were four large windows which I'm sure would have let the new moonlight fill the room if the drapes had not been drawn. It was also extremely quiet. I couldn't hear a sound from the hustle and bustle from the kitchen or upstairs. All three lamps were lit, drawing my immediate attention to the slightly steamy bath in front of a full length mirror. A small desk was situated next to the door with a simple chair and my bureau sat next to the mirror. A nightgown and blue dress were laid out on the small wood carved bed along with white bandages and a bar of soap.

"We were not sure if you would be willing to join us for supper or not. It has been a long week for you. Miriam will be back in half an hour to remove the tub and help you with your dressings should you need it. I am glad to have you back home safe dear"

She kissed me on the cheek and wished me good night before leaving. I perused around the room, curious as to what belongings lay in my possession. Other than the essentials, I only found a charming crystal necklace hanging off the mirror. It was a thick blue ribbon with a beautifully detailed sparkling star hanging off of it. All of my other possessions must have been at the family farm.

The smell of lilies wafted up to me from the still steaming bath water enticing me to soothe my sore muscles. I kicked the sweaty boots off my swollen feet, and slipped off the mud encrusted trousers. The wrinkled nightgown was now wet with the day's sweat and smelled like someone had died in it . . . _who knows where that nightgown has been. _I gingerly lifted it over my head, wincing with the slight over stretch on my ribs. My hair was all sorts of a tangled mess and I struggled with taking the chord out.

I only had one bandage on, and that was wrapped around my small torso. Taking off the dressing, I was relieved to see no blood or bones protruding. _Wild imagination I have. _The reflection in the mirror pulled me to it, and for the first time it felt like I looked upon myself. I realized now that I was quite tall for a woman, most likely around 67 inches. Bruises on my face and arms were now a mustard yellow and blue and they were smaller in size. There was a small horizontal scab on my left cheek . . . no doubt from that Colonel Brute when he had slapped me. There were hardly noticeable scars on my legs and arms that looked like I had ran through a forest full of branches and thorns. I was horribly thin, my collar bone jutted out and I could almost see my ribs. My sallow cheeks were framed by a matted brown curly mess and beneath it all, my fiery hazels still sparked. It was quite visible that I had lived through hell and barely survived. Still I had not lost my womanly appearance or my Martin pride and for that I was indebted to God. Turning to enter the bath, slash marks across my back caught my eye. They were sparse but they looked terrible against my white skin. Thick scabs covered the five or six wounds across my back and nausea filled my stomach just to remember what had caused that pain . . . the slashing of the blade over and over again. Shivering with the memory, I quickly entered the hot water to wash away the cold.

It wasn't hard to lose myself in the relaxing of my muscles and soon fall asleep with the gentle lapping of the water against the tub. Time sped up too quickly and knocking at the door startled me awake.

"Miss?"

Miriam was already here to take the bath away.

"Are you decent Miss Elizabeth?"

"No Miriam, I need your help"

I had forgotten to get the soap off the bed and the water was just too soothing, although cooling quickly, to get out. Miriam whispered something to someone next to her and then entered alone.

"I left the soap on the bed", I said shamefully with a blush to my cheeks.

"Oh yes miss", she quickly grabbed it and put it in my hand. I set out to scrub my body quickly with a sparse cloth, being careful of the scabs. My hair was proving to be a challenge, and it was being uncooperative.

"Here miss, let me help you with that"

She grabbed a brush off the bureau and knelt on the ground behind me. Gently, she untangled the hairy mess and moisturized each tendril with the fragrant soap.

"There miss, perfect"

"Thank you Miriam, it feels wonderful"

I ran my fingers through it before deciding that the water was now too cold to enjoy anymore.

"Will you be joining the family for supper?"

"Yes, I will"

"Very good Miss. I am here to assist you with dressing should you like"

"Yes, thank you" I replied gratefully. The dress looked a little complicated in getting on and I didn't think I would be able to do it alone. I decided against replacing the bandages, and set them aside just in case they might be needed later.

After dressing, she gathered half of my curls up top and let the rest cascade down on shoulders over the dress. I looked at myself in the mirror, approving the difference a dress made but already I sorely missed the comfort of the trousers. Looking at the necklace hanging off the mirror, I decided to go ahead and put it on.

"Miriam, will you tie this for me?"

"Yes Miss"

The necklace sparkled in the candlelight and contrasted the color of my eyes, making them stand out like fiery suns. I was quite the pretty picture in the mirror, minus the bruises and cuts I could pass for a well off lady.

"Would you like these cleaned for you?" In Miriam's arms were the clothes from the camp.

"No, no that won't be necessary. You can simply throw all of that away including the boots. They are of no more use to me."

"Yes miss. They'll be waiting for you in the parlor; supper will be served in ten minutes"

"Thank you so much for your help", I gave her a quick hug before heading out the door and towards the only parlor I knew of in the house. Self consciously I patted down the small wrinkles of the dress and ran my fingers through my hair. Passing the painting again, I couldn't help but glance at it again; his devilish eyes could draw me every time. Some shouting from the parlor gripped my attention.

"Mr. Martin, please sir, I beseech you. Listen to what I have to say. I came here to warn you Elizabeth is in trouble"

Gabriel spoke up heatedly, "You have no place here, and no Green Dragoon is welcome in this house"

Aunt Charlotte interfered softly, "Gabriel, I say who comes and goes in my home. Please, let our guest speak"

A moment of silence ensued, and I stood perfectly still in my spot lest they hear me listening in to their conversation. Father broke the silence with a hushed tone.

"You have my attention Mr. Wilkins"

_Wilkins? _Wasn't that the man . . . no, it couldn't be. I quietly walked around the corner and stood in the small passage way before the parlor, hiding discreetly against the wall. Peeking over the corner, the floorboards gently creaked in adjustment to the weight but the persons were too drawn in their conversation to pay it any attention. There was father, Gabriel, Aunt Charlotte, and a third gentleman . . . he was quite tall and wore the Green Dragoons uniform. I gasped audibly, not caring if they heard me. _How did they find me? _He turned around to face the passage way in which I stood. I looked upon those solemn green eyes and that attractive young face. _It was the man from the camp, Captain Wilkins! _He had seen me peeking around the corner, and was now approaching me.

"Elizabeth?"

Seeing that trying to run away was futile, I stepped out into the parlor and greeted everyone cordially yet awkwardly.

"Good Evening father . . . Gabriel . . . Aunt Charlotte . . . . . . . . and to you Captain Wilkins. I was just going to take a stroll in the gardens and heard my name being called"

Gabriel rolled his eyes knowing full well that was not the case and Aunt Charlotte patted the seat next to her for me to sit. Father ran a hand over his face and through his thick graying hair. I walked around the Captain and took a seat, waiting for the Dragoon to talk. Captain Wilkins stood there uncomfortably, deciding on what to say.

"Well it appears Mr. Wilkins that you have all of our attention. Now tell us what kind of trouble you speak of"

"Sir, I don't have much time, they will notice me gone soon. You must get Elizabeth out of here and somewhere safe"

"She is safe here with her family. We protect her now", Gabriel out spoke much to father's dismay.

"If you cannot keep your tongue Gabriel then step outside. Now what do you mean out of here?"

Gabriel rubbed his head frustratingly, and took a seat across the room with his arms folded.

"Colonel Tavington was wounded in the skirmish. It was only a minor wound to the shoulder, and he was deemed fit for duty. However, his pride has been injured and his anger boils with no boundary. He wants her back . . . he wants Elizabeth"

"Never again Mr. Wilkins you can be sure of that. Not when she is under my watch."

"Listen to me! It did not take long for him to get your name and all of your families, including yours Charlotte. Knowing of my relationship with Elizabeth, he came to me. I didn't know what to do . . . all I could think of was her safety."

"Wilkins, what did you do?"

"I foolishly told him Charlotte's location."

Gabriel stood up in an outrage and began cursing under his breath.

"Wait, so what does that mean," Aunt Charlotte desperately asked, standing up.

My legs began shaking underneath the silk of my dress and I started chewing on my lower lip. Everyone's eyes shifted nervously on the shameful young captain. The tension in the room was palpable and thick.

"Colonel Tavington rides now on the wings of the devil . . . he will be here within the hour"


	12. Close Call

Hi Readers!

Thanks again for being faithful to the story . . . I am sooo excited about where this is going. Thank you kelbel11 for the review, I greatly appreciate it! :)I can't believe it's been over 4 years that I've been writing this story. Wow! If you could drop a line, and let me know what y'all think. I've already got Chapter 12 in the works, yay! Enjoy!

Diana

Chapter Eleven

"Gabriel, go help the servants prepare the horses necessary for travel. Take Nathan and Samuel with you. We will meet you by the river shore just behind us. Quickly, son!"

I flashed Gabriel a swift smile before he headed inside and up the stairs. The South Carolina wind cooled the sweat on my brow while at the same time swept loose tresses across my face. Aunt Charlotte was already inside, preparing the girls and William for the long night ahead. I felt a little uncomfortable under the quiet, curious stare of the Captain. Father could feel it too by the look of his shifty eyes and sudden cough.

"I need you to change into something more comfortable and fitting for a long night of riding Elizabeth. There will be no room for skirts and fancies where we're headed"

"Yes father"

"Mr. Wilkins, once again you have my gratitude. Your affection for my daughter has not saved only her life but also that of my families"

"Surely sir, you must know of my unwavering love and devotion to her . . . can I convince you?"

"Look son now is neither the time nor place. Perhaps if things had . . . should you ever wish to join us in the fight, all you need do is ask. We still need a few good men. Elizabeth, be back outside in ten minutes. Mr. Wilkins, safe journeys to you."

Father headed inside, leaving the awkward silence between the Captain and I. Around the grounds, servants were hurrying to and fro bearing torches and women with children. The Captain took a hesitant step towards me and outstretched his hand. I did not know what to do, what could I? With pain glazed eyes he withdrew his hand.

"Back at camp there had been rumors that the prisoner had memory loss . . ."

He looked away to the stretch of road almost in an expectant manner. With his hidden fears quelled, he turned towards me again. I could not help but notice the tears swimming in his emerald depths.

"I kept hope that perhaps you would remember me . . . all the time we shared together. Granted our last parting was not so sweet but maybe under different circumstances"

At the lost questionable look in my eyes, he looked away once more. He set the black fur lined cover upon his head and clasped it firmly. Immediately, I sensed his cool demeanor and stared in wonder at the sudden transformation. He slid on his riding gloves and glanced back at me.

"Perhaps in another world and time, we may have known more together. As always Miss Martin, it has been my utmost pleasure, may this be your last run in with danger."

He walked down the steps and approached his horse. I quickly followed him down and reached to touch his arm.

"Captain Wilkins. . . "

He spun around; making my hand lay awkwardly on his chest. Underneath the starlit sky I could not see the reaction in his eyes nor did I wish him to see the reddening of my cheeks.

"I could not have you leave without me thanking you especially with your life in danger . . . thank you"

He took my hand from his chest and laid a chaste kiss upon my knuckles.

"Love knows no boundaries Elizabeth"

Without further words, the Captain was riding fast away disappearing within the tall trees. He did not have much time before the Dragoons noticed him missing. I didn't have much time either.

Within minutes and with Aunt Charlotte's aid I was able to change back into a pair of Gabriel's trousers and one of Nathan's white blouses. The boots I had stolen earlier that day were still lying next to the bed (really was a shame I would not be able to relax in its luxuries for one night). With a pair of black socks, the boots were much more comfortable than they had been earlier in the day. I opted to keep the necklace on with the realization this house may not exist by morning. Upon one final inspection of the room I discovered an old, worn journal of sorts hidden beneath the bed. I had no time to rummage through it so decided to carry it with me.

"Elizabeth, come! The hour is growing late . . ."

And sure enough the clock chimed the ninth hour out in the foyer. If the Captain's predictions had been correct, it could be minutes before the devil arrived. I followed Aunt Charlotte out onto the porch but had to stop one more time in front of the painting. His hauntingly beautiful eyes still captured me, pulling at the strings of my heart. This time I detected a hint of betrayal, pain and even hope amidst them. Had the painting changed or had my eyes just opened further? Is everything never as it originally appears to be?

"Elizabeth!"

I regretfully left the mural and ran out unto the porch to be confronted by six wide fearful eyes and four worried adult ones. Susan cradled a porcelain doll in her small arms while Margaret held unto William's hand.

"Everyone follow me, quickly now"

The movement around the plantation had died down considerably save for a few male servants heading towards the empty stables and barn with flaming torches. Most of the servants had fled with their families and some of the horses once words had quickly spread about the impending visitation. Aunt Charlotte did not try and stop them; in fact she had encouraged . . . even helped Marcus and Miriam.

As we passed the empty structures, I soon smelled the sweet smell and smokiness of wood and hay burning. I saw bright orange flames come to life within and engulf everything in sight. With one glance over at Aunt Charlotte, I could see the grief etched on her pale face as all the buildings surrounding her home crackled to life with a murderous fire. Father turned to me,

"The smoke should throw them off for a while, giving us some needed extra time to get away. Hopefully, the house will be spared tonight"

Gratefully Susan's fearful gasps and cries distracted Charlotte from the crisis at hand as she comforted my baby sister. I held Margaret's other hand as father led us into the thick foliage behind the house. Just ahead of us I could make out four figures standing by a group of five horses. Gabriel whistled us over to their side.

"We've scouted out the river Colonel, everything is clear sir. What is the plan of action?"

Nathan stood next to Gabriel with an air of bright confidence while Samuel stood slightly behind him hiding. On his other side there stood a familiar black servant.

"Marcus, where is your family?"

Aunt Charlotte asked as she stepped forward with an alarmed look.

"Ma'am, I sent my family off with the other families. This is no longa the white man's war. This be my war too missus and I need to protect my family."

Father patted Marcus on the shoulder as he approached one of the horses.

"You are a good man and are more than welcome to join us"

"Thank you Sir"

"Gabriel, you are to take your Aunt and the children to Na Bahari, south east of here by the sea. Once you have arrived, you are to turn around immediately and bring word to me. An old family friend will be there, she will help everyone get settled. Do you understand these orders?"

"Yes sir", Gabriel nodded his head.

"Very good, you must make good time son. Hurry . . ."

I turned to leave with my brothers and sisters when father quickly interjected.

"Elizabeth, you are coming with me"

Everyone dumbfounded turned to look at him like he was wrongly mistaken.

"Benjamin, surely you do not mean for her to . . ."

"Oh I do Charlotte; I will not let her out of my sight so soon. She like Gabriel has been trained in swordsmanship, shooting, scavenging, and scouting. She will be better with Gabriel and I"

"But a woman . . . a young lady of her caliber mixed in with all the madness of war"

"Father, she's right. Our camp is no place is for a woman, even one as tough as Elizabeth. It's better -"

Gabriel placed a protective arm around me, which I shrugged off with an interruption.

"It is too late for that now, seeing as I am already "mixed" in with all of the madness. I am able just as you Gabriel Martin and there are still unanswered questions I deserve the right to know. We are wasting time arguing over this. I am going with father."

Gabriel and Aunt Charlotte said nothing more on the issue and we all said our respective good byes. I could not help but be sad at the sight of the sorrowful teary eyes of my younger siblings. I knew they were afraid, we all were for who knew what the future held for us all. Aunt Charlotte reminded me to act like a lady at all times even in war. Gabriel hugged me tightly.

"I will be seeing you soon sister. Keep him out of trouble while I'm gone"

He nodded over at father standing awkwardly before Aunt Charlotte. I laughed in response.

"Surely, you mean that the other way around. Safe journey to you brother"

"And to you!" he shouted as he led a flustered Charlotte away from our speechless father. We watched until all seven persons disappeared within the thriving woods. I felt a slight nudging push on my lower back. Looking behind me, I was shocked to see two big friendly eyes curiously staring at me.

"She missed you, y'know. Your aunt told me she would walk out to the road and stand there waiting all day for your return. She did that for a week . . ."

I gently lay a hand on her white diamond nose and whispered in her ear.

"I look forward to getting to know you again Putnam . . ."

Feeling no stranger, she nuzzled her head into my neck and nickered softly. Before mounting, I took time to make sure the journal was safe and secure in the saddle's pack. It was exciting to know that a whole lifetime of memories could be within those pages.

"If at any time you need to stop, you let me know straight away so I can find us a safe resting place. Other than that, we are riding hard through the night. We should be at our destination by midday tomorrow. Marcus tie up the extra horse to yours, we will be using it for the militia"

So, the three of us took off slowly at first to pass north through the dark of the woods but as soon as we made our way unto a safe trail we picked up our pace. The exhaustion from earlier that night had rapidly dissipated, uncovering a great sense of heightened adventure and adrenaline. It course through my veins and fed my energy to new levels. The full moon helped us in our journey, lighting up the necessary paths for travel. Music of the night surrounded us, keeping us alert and wide awake with the sounds of wild animals and the stirrings of the forest.

My hunger pains grew louder and stronger with the sinking of the Nightly sun. Miriam had wisely packed the rolls and meat from supper into our packs. With the reins in one hand, I reached down the other and fumbled around with the packs belt. After a few rough jostles and failed attempts, I was able to fish out two cold rolls from the top. Securing the pack was much easier and I sat back up quickly to gain full control of the reins.

With all my attention on the delicious honey buns, I failed to notice a rogue branch hanging down in the middle of the trail. A strand of my hair entwined with my ribbon got snagged and pulled back. I looked back to see the ribbon hanging off of the branch. Hot tears prickled my vision and I cursed a bit louder than intended,

"Damn branch!"

In my pain, I dropped both biscuits to cradle the sore spot on my head. Father looked over at me with worry.

"I'm okay, only caught my hair on a branch. I'll live"

He let out a sigh of relief and smiled. A dull pinkish hue was already warming up the pre dawn sky.

"We'll stop just ahead, no use riding the horses to their death. They'll need some water. I know a stream close by."

After riding a few miles ahead, he led us through the dense green thicket to a peaceful clearing by a steady stream. Its churning waters instantly cooled me. I got off of Putnam and loosened her bridle to let her drink and relax. Father and Marcus followed suit and soon enough we were sitting around eating an early breakfast of leftovers and drinking from our canteens. After a quick breakfast, I splashed my face with cool water from the still end of the stream.

In the reflection of the waters, I caught sight of myself. My wild curls hung freely around my tan face and my hazel eyes shimmered in the mirrored image, taking away from the dark circles beneath my eyes. From the corner of my vision I could see a fire being lit.

"I thought this was just a brief stop, huh?"

I turned around to see father caught red handed with a spall lit in his hand. A warm fire was already alive and thriving in front of him. Despite the warm summer morning, the comforting crack and pop of the campfire lured me.

"There is a daily morning ritual I have become accustomed to in the past week"

Father rummaged around his pack and pulled out a small leather brown satchel. I took a seat next to father on the grassy earth and looked curiously at what he pulled out.

"oh wow, those are pretty neat. Where did you get them?"

In his hand lay a single red coat soldier figurine. He carried a rifle at right shoulder arms and stood at the position of attention. It looked high detailed as if someone had hand painted it. Father closed his eyes briefly and sighed.

"I believe it's time I told you what happened honey. I know your memory is very sporadic and minimal but you still deserve to know"

In his other hand he held a black spoon of sorts that almost looked like a scoop. With no thought, he placed the toy soldier in the spoon and set it over the fire. I watched curiously and with a bit of shock.

"These belonged to your brother, Thomas . . . he was only sixteen and boy did he remind me of you, passionate spirit and he loved to work with his hands. He started on this soldier set when he was ten years old. It had been a gift from your mother and I. At first, it took him awhile to build enough patience with the figurines but by the age of fourteen he already had a whole army completed. He was almost done with the second army when that dark day passed over our farm."

The soldier was melting into a small silver pool. Father pulled out another tool of some sort and poured the hot liquid into the device. He squeezed the handles together and held it like that for a couple seconds. When he released the handles, a little metal ball landed in the palm of his hand.

"He was only child Elizabeth . . . and he shot him down as if he was an enemy on the battlefield . . . as if it was a normal thing to do."

"Who shot who?"

He looked up at me with angry, vengeful eyes causing me to shiver in my skin at this new sight. Father pulled out his pistol and loaded the freshly made ammunition.

"You have made his acquaintance. . ."

"Colonel Tavington," I whispered.

"Gabriel was to be hanged as a spy, I could do nothing, my hands were tied. Thomas wouldn't quit, he was determined to do something . . . so he did. Before I could react, he was running towards Gabriel and struck the two guards holding him. In a heartbeat too late I was off the porch yelling his name but Tavington already had his pistol out and armed. I was barely there in time to catch his cold dying body. That bastard had called him a stupid boy . . . and that something snapped in me Elizabeth. Your brother did not live to see the farm being burned to the ground nor did he see all the colonial regulars get shot. He died quickly in my arms . . . I held him closely as I watched the vivid life escape his eyes. There was nothing I could do as a father . . . as a man"

Tears rolled down my cheeks and my heart broke to hear of this all too fresh tragedy. It was no wonder that everyone seemed to be healing from some great ordeal. I suddenly wished strongly that I could collect some memory of my lost brother Thomas . . . something to give me solace but there was nothing to which I could relate.

"I wish I could remember him"

There were so many questions left in my mind like how in the world did Gabriel even escape from the Redcoat's clutches? But by the look on father's face as he stared deep into the embers told me to leave it alone for now. Then I remembered the journal in my pack! Father didn't even seem to notice me sneaking away to retrieve it. I nodded a greeting at Marcus as I passed by him.

"Miss Martin, will we be making track soon?"

I looked over at father and he was still slumped over the bright fire.

"It may yet be awhile . . ."

He nodded in agreement, following my eyes to the lone figure and sitting back down against an old large oak. I approached Putnam from the side and greeted her warmly. She looked up momentarily from her grazing and just as soon put her head back down to feeding.

"Well, hello to you too!"

I smoothed a hand over her back as I reached in for the worn leather. With it in my hands, I hurried back to sit by the fire. There was no lock on the book, but I still apprehensively opened it. The binding was worn and the back of the cover was almost entirely stained with a splotch of ink. The stain also seeped unto the first page. Thankfully there was no writing on either faces save for a small inscription on top of the first page. It was beautifully and delicately hand written.

"To my beautiful little girl, Elizabeth Katherine Martin, you will be a big sister soon and you will

need a journal to tell all of your adventures. I love you my sweet angel . . .

Mother "

An account of my memories lay in my very lap! No one has mentioned mother thus far. I knew she was gone, but how long ago did she die? I ran my fingers over her fine print and closed my eyes to think of what she would have looked like . . . but I could not muster a single image. I took my time to turn the page, relishing every little detail. The same beautiful handwriting was at the top of the second page.

"JULY 19, 1762"

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

*Four Miles Behind*

Colonel Tavington threw his left hand up to signal a halt for the ten Dragoons riding behind him. Borden threw his hand up as well and sauntered his exhausted horse up to the Colonel's side. Tavington looked slightly above to a branch dangling down. His gloved hand reached for something blue suspended from the tree. A confident and abnormal happy smirk lit up his long darkened features as he retrieved the ribbon.

"I have you in my sights now Elizabeth", he whispered to himself softly as he opened up his palm to reveal a lock of brown hair tied in with a royal blue silk band.

"Sir, the horses and men have been riding for twenty four hours. They are in need of food and rest."

Tavington closed his palm over the treasure in his grasp. They were so close to capturing the alluded ghost and most of all, his daughter. The thought of such a brilliant victory made him unusually satisfied and even giddy. His plan began and ended with the daughter however, she was the pawn in his game and he would do everything to make sure he was the victor. But now, unfortunately, he had to look to the welfare of his men. The Colonel winced at the pain in his right shoulder and looked down to see his jacket wet with fresh blood. Yes, they indeed had time to catch their breaths.

"Search for water and set camp nearby. Make sure the horses are seen to first Borden"

"Aye sir"

Borden turned his horse around and ordered the men to scout for a good place to set up camp. He turned back around and watched the Colonel's actions. There had never been a time he had seen him so directly impacted by a prisoner . . . or a woman for that matter. He did not like where this storm was heading and had a bad foreboding. However, there was nothing he could do to temper the wild winds. All he could do was stand by and watch.


End file.
